THE  RED  BATTLE  FLYER 


THE 

RED  BAULE  FLYER 


BY 

Ceptein  Aenfred  Freiberr 

von  Ricbtbofen 


TmuUttd  by  J.  EUi.  Barker,  with  a  pn&ce  tad 
now  by  C.  G.  Oaf,  editor  of  "The  AtrepW 


DISCARDED  BY. PAL 


NEW  YORK 

Robert  M.  McBride  &f  Co. 
1918 


Tiamlatioa 

Copyright .  1911 

by 

ROBERT  M.   McBRroE  flf  COMPANY 


July.  1V2« 


. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

PREFACE          .         .         .         .         .  i 

i.    MY  FAMILY 19 

ii.  THE  OUTBREAK  OP  THE  WAX.        .         .  39 

in.  BOREDOM  BEFORE  VERDUN    .  .         .         .52 

rv.    IN  THE  AIR 57 

v.  MY  FIRST  SOLO  FLIGHT                             .  8a 

vi.  I  FLY  IN  A  THUNDERSTORM      .         .         .92 

vn.  BOMBING  IN  RUSSIA        ....  98 

vni.  MY  FIRST  ENGLISH  VICTIM     .         .         .  109 

ix.  I  GET  THE  ORDRE  POUR  LE  MERTTE  .         .  127 

x.  A   FLYING  MAN'S  ADVENTURE        .         .  145 

xi.    MY  RECORD  DAY 154 

xii.  SCHAFER  LANDS  BETWEEN  LINES    .        .  168 

xin.    MY  BROTHER 196 


\ 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 

CAPTAIN  BARON  VON  RICHTHOFEN  .  Frontispiece 
THE  FAMOUS  RICHTHOFEN  "CIRCUS"  .  .  64 
THE  FORTIETH  RICHTHOFEN  VICTIM  .  .128 
LIEUT.  SCHAFEB  SPEAKING  WITH  ANOTHER 

MEMBER  OF  THE  SQUADRON     .        .        .     194 
CAPTAIN  RICHTHOFEN  WITH  His  MASCOT  DOG 


Til 


PREFACE 

time  ago  a  Naval  Officer  who  was 
engaged  on  particularly  hazardous  duty 
was  discussing  calmly  the  chances  that  he 
and  his  like  had  of  surviving  the  war,  assum- 
ing that  it  continued  for  several  more  years 
and  that  his  particular  branch  of  it  increased 
its  intensity.  He  wound  up  his  remarks  by 
saying,  "The  chief  reason  why  I  particularly 
want  to  survive  the  finish  is  that  I'm  so  keen 
on  comparing  notes  with  our  opposite  mem- 
bers in  the  German  Navy." 

That  is  the  answer  to  those  who  ask,  as  an 
important  official  gentleman  asked  recently, 
why  this  English  translation  of  Rittmeister 
von  Richthofen's  book  should  be  published. 
It  gives  our  flying  people  an  opportunity  of 
comparing  notes  with  one  of  Germany's 
star-turn  fighting  pilots,  just  as  that  excel- 
lent book  by  "Contact"  gives  the  Germans 
the  chance  of  gathering  the  atmosphere  of 


PREFACE 

the  Royal  Flying  Corps  as  it  was  in  1916 
and  1917. 

"The  Red  Battle-Flyer"  has  evidently  been 
carefully  censored  by  the  German  authori- 
ties. Also  it  has  possibly  been  touched  up 
here  and  there  for  propagandist  purposes. 
Consequently,  although  the  narrative  as  it 
stands  is  extraordinarily  interesting,  the 
book  as  a  whole  is  still  more  interesting  on 
account  of  what  one  reads  between  the  lines, 
and  of  what  one  can  deduce  from  the  general 
outlook  of  the  writer.  There  is,  perhaps, 
little  to  learn  of  immediate  topical  interest, 
but  there  is  much  that  explains  things  which 
were  rather  difficult  to  understand  in  the 
past,  and  the  understanding  of  such  points 
gives  one  a  line  of  reasoning  which  should 
be  useful  to  our  active-service  aviators  in 
the  future. 

When  one  makes  due  allowance  for  the 
propagandist  nature  of  the  book,  which  gives 
one  the  general  impression  of  the  writing 
of  a  gentleman  prepared  for  publication  by 
a  hack  journalist,  one  forms  a  distinctly  fa- 
vorable mental  picture  of  the  young  Ritt- 


PREFACE 

meister  Baron  von  Richthofen.  Our  old 
friend  Froissart  is  credited  with  the  state- 
ment that  in  his  age  of  chivalry  it  was 
always  "impossible  to  inculcate  into  the 
German  knights  the  true  spirit  of  knightli- 
ness."  Which  seems  to  indicate  that  the 
practical  German  mind  of  those  days  could 
not  understand  the  whimsicalities  of  the 
Latin  ideas  of  chivalry,  which — for  example 
— bade  a  knight  against  whose  shield  an 
opponent  "brake  his  spear"  haul  off  out  of 
the  fight  till  the  lance-less  enemy  unsheathed 
his  sword  and  "drave  into  the  combat"  again. 
Probably  the  Hun  of  those  days  proceeded 
to  stick  his  opponent  in  the  midriff — wher- 
ever it  may  be — and  so  finished  the  fight. 

In  the  same  true  spirit  of  knightliness  an 
Englishman  knocks  a  man  down  and  then 
stands  back  so  that  he  can  get  up  and  have 
another  chance,  whereas  a  more  practical 
person  would  take  excellent  care  that  his 
opponent  never  got  up  till  he  had  acknowl- 
edged himself  beaten.  It  is  all  a  matter  of 
the  point  of  view,  and  largely  no  doubt  a 
matter  of  education.  However,  making  due 


PREFACE       

allowance  for  the  point  of  view,  one  finds 
surprisingly  little  Hunnishness  in  von  Rich- 
thofen's  manners  or  methods  as  set  forth  in 
print. 

It  is  one  of  the  accepted  facts  of  the  war 
that  the  German  aviators  have  displayed 
greater  chivalry  than  any  other  branch  of 
the  German  services.  It  was  a  common 
occurrence  for  their  pilots  to  fly  over  our 
lines  in  the  course  of  their  business,  and,  by 
way  of  variety  from  that  business,  to  drop 
packets  containing  letters  from  captured 
British  aviators,  or  the  personal  belongings 
of  the  dead.  One  gathers  that  these  acts  of 
courtesy  have  become  less  frequent  of  late, 
owing  to  the  intensification  of  aerial  war- 
fare, but  it  seems  that  captured  and  killed 
aviators  still  receive  the  full  courtesies  of 
war  from  the  German  aviators,  whatever 
may  be  the  fate  of  prisoners  in  other  hands 
afterwards. 

It  is  not  surprising  therefore  to  find  that, 
taking  him  all  round,  Rittmeister  von  Rich- 
thofen  conveys  to  one  the  general  impression 
that,  mutatis  mutandis,  he  is  very  like  an 


PREFACE 

English  public  school  boy  of  good  family. 
His  egotism,  as  one  finds  it  in  the  book,  is 
the  egotism  of  a  young  man  who  is  frankly 
pleased  with  himself,  but  is  more  elated  by 
his  good  luck  than  by  his  cleverness. 

Taking  him  by  and  large,  one  rather  likes 
von  Richthofen,  and  one  fancies  that  most 
of  the  R.F.C.  people  who  have  fought  him 
would  be  quite  pleased  after  the  war  to  sit 
at  table  with  him  and  compare  notes  over 
the  cigarettes  and  liquors,  as  my  Naval 
friend  wants  to  do  with  his  pre-war  friends 
of  the  German  Navy.  And  there  are  un- 
happily not  too  many  of  our  present  enemies 
of  whom  one  would  like  to  express  such  an 
opinion. 

When  one  comes  to  read  into  the  book  one 
begins  to  find  many  interesting  things 
about  the  German  Army,  and  the  war  in 
general,  as  well  as  about  the  German  Feld- 
fliegartruppen — or  Flying  Service.  The  Ger- 
man is  not  really  a  skilful  censor.  Just  as 
certain  portraits  painted  by  an  artist  at 
Ruhleben  conveyed  by  the  expression  of  the 
faces  a  good  deal  that  Germany  would  like 


PREFACE 


hidden,  so  von  Richthofen's  book,  though 
carefully  censored,  lets  out  quite  a  good  deal 
of  information. 

The  first  thing  that  strikes  one  is  that 
Germany's  standing  army  at  the  beginning 
of  the  war  was  nothing  like  so  perfect  a 
fighting  machine  as  we  in  this  country  be- 
lieved. Although,  like  all  the  people  with 
any  sense  in  this  country,  the  German  Army 
knew  that  a  war  was  coming,  the  officers 
and  men  seem  to  have  set  about  their  work 
in  a  singularly  amateurish  way,  judging  by 
the  short  section  of  the  book  devoted  to  the 
opening  of  the  war  on  the  Russian  Front. 
And  one  is  pleased  to  find  that  von  Rich- 
thofen  has  the  grace  to  laugh  at  himself  and 
his  brother-officers  for  their  mistakes. 

In  some  ways  the  soldiers  of  all  nations 
resemble  one  another  strongly.  For  in- 
stance, one  finds  in  this  book  the  same  con- 
tempt for  what  the  Germans  picturesquely 
call  a  "base-hog,"  as  the  French  have  for 
the  "embusque"  and  as  the  British  front- 
line officer  has  for  the  young  and  able- 
bodied  officer  who  is  "Something  on  the 


PREFACE 

Staff."  This  obnoxious  breed  is  the  same 
in  all  armies,  and  must  be  clearly  distin- 
guished from  the  carefully  trained  and  ex- 
pensively educated  General  Staff  Officer, 
who  is  very  much  of  a  specialist  and  is  the 
very  brain  of  the  Army. 

When  we  come  to  the  purely  aviatic  por- 
tion of  the  book  one  finds  more  of  the  real 
von  Richthofen  and  less  of  the  cavalry 
officer.  His  honesty  about  his  utter  mental 
confusion  the  first  time  he  went  into  the  air 
recalls  General  Brancker's  famous  remark 
in  his  lecture  to  the  Aeronautical  Society 
when  he  said  that  no  one  ever  sees  anything 
at  all  during  his  first  hour  in  the  air  owing 
to  the  hopeless  confusion  in  his  mind  caused 
by  the  novel  aspect  of  everything.  Von 
Richthofen's  description  of  his  experience  is 
about  the  best  thing  that  has  been  written 
on  the  subject. 

An  interesting  bit  of  information  is  dis- 
closed in  his  description  of  his  flight  in  a 
"Grossflugzeug,"  on  September  1st,  1915. 
At  that  period  little  was  known  about  twin- 
engined  aeroplanes.  The  Germans  were 


PREFACE 


known  to  have  tried  them,  but  they  were 
not  a  success.  The  only  example  known  to 
our  people — though  probably  there  were 
actually  several  different  machines  —  was 
commonly  known  in  the  R.F.C.  as  "'Wong- 
wong,"  on  account  of  the  curious  noise  made 
by  the  engines  or  air-screws  when  they  got 
"out  of  phase" — as  an  electrician  might 
call  it.  This  noise  is  now  quite  familiar  to 
the  inhabitants  of  Southeastern  England 
as  the  characteristic  note  of  the  Gotha 
bombers. 

Von  Richthofen's  good  judgment  of  fight- 
ing values,  though  he  was  then  only  an 
observer,  and  a  novice  at  that,  is  shown  by 
his  disapproval  of  the  twin-engined  aero- 
plane as  a  fighting  machine.  It  is  also  of 
interest  to  learn  that  at  that  period  the 
Germans  had  tried  an  auto-lock  device  to 
hold  the  rudder  of  a  twin-engined  machine 
over  to  one  side  so  that  it  would  fly  straight 
if  one  engine  went  out  of  action,  an  ingeni- 
ous idea  even  if  foredoomed  to  failure. 

It  is  encouraging  to  find  that  though 
these  twin-engined  machines  were  in  opera- 

8 


PREFACE 


tion  in  September,  1915,  the  first  bombing 
squadron  so  composed  only  came  into  action 
against  defenceless  Bucharest  a  year  later. 
This  shows  that  actually  we  in  this  country 
are  not  so  very  much  slower  in  producing 
our  new  ideas,  for  our  big  Handley  Page 
twin-engined  biplanes  first  flew  towards  the 
end  of  1915,  and  we  began  to  use  them  regu- 
larly early  in  1917 — only  a  little  more  than 
a  year  later. 

The  similarity  of  aviators  in  all  countries 
is  shown  by  von  Richthofen's  frank  confes- 
sion of  blue  funk  when  he  made  his  first 
flight  alone.  That  first  solo  is  always  the 
most  anxious  time  in  a  pilot's  career.  An- 
other touch  of  that  nature  which  makes  all 
aviators  akin  is  seen  in  his  accounts  of  how 
he  and  other  pupils  under  instruction  used 
to  fly  off  on  cross-country  training  trips  and 
suffer  from  opportune  forced  landings  in  the 
parks  of  their  friends  or  in  likely-looking 
estates.  One  imagined  that  this  manifesta- 
tion of  "wongling"  was  an  essentially  Eng- 
lish trick,  and  would  not  have  been  tolerated 
for  a  moment  under  the  iron  discipline  of 


PREFACE 

the  German  Army.  In  the  early  days  of  the 
R.F.C.  this  looking  for  opulent  hosts  used 
to  be  known  sarcastically  as  "hunting  for 
Jew-palaces." 

The  state  of  affairs  on  the  Russian  front 
is  well  shown  in  the  brief  reference  in  the 
book.  "Flying  in  the  East  is  absolutely  a 
holiday,"  says  the  writer,  who  adds  that 
there  was  no  danger  on  the  Russian  front, 
except  the  danger  of  being  massacred  by  the 
Russians  if  brought  down  by  engine  failure. 
From  which  one  understands  that  the  Rus- 
sians did  not  approve  of  making  prisoners 
of  enemy  aviators.  Their  "Archies"  were 
apparently  good,  but  too  few  to  be  useful, 
and  their  aviators  practically  did  not  exist. 
Which  is  rather  what  one  ventured  to  sur- 
mise in  print  at  the  time,  despite  the  mag- 
niloquent Russian  communiques.  When  one 
thinks  of  all  the  good  British  and  French 
aeroplanes  and  engines  which  were  sent  to 
Russia  one  regrets  the  waste  of  material. 
On  the  subject  of  air  fighting,  von  Rich- 
thofen  is  always  worth  studying  carefully. 
None  will  dispute  his  wisdom  in  laying  stress 

10 


PREFACE 

on  the  importance  of  calmness  in  an  air 
fight.  We  have  lost  many  good  fighting 
pilots  through  their  getting  excited  and 
dashing  headlong  into  an  unequal  combat. 
He,  or  his  editor,  has  been  sufficiently  skil- 
ful not  to  give  away  his  pet  method  of 
attack.  However,  one  gathers  that  he  de- 
pended largely  on  his  first  rush  for  his  re- 
sults, rather  than  on  a  prolonged  series  of 
manoeuvres. 

His  dictum  that  "in  air  fighting  results 
depend  on  ability  and  not  on  trickery," 
rather  bears  out  this  impression.  Neverthe- 
less he  occasionally  tells  of  a  lengthy  tussle 
with  a  particularly  skilful  enemy. 

Such  a  story  relates  how  that  very  gallant 
gentleman,  Major  Lanoe  Hawker,  one  of  the 
best  loved  and  admired  of  the  R.F.C/S  many 
gallant  fighting  leaders,  fell.  It  would  seem 
that  Major  Hawker's  machine  was  out- 
classed rather  than  that  he  was  beaten  by 
superior  skill.  One  is  glad  to  find  that  von 
Richthofen  pays  a  tribute  to  the  bravery  and 
ability  of  his  enemy,  and  it  is  perhaps  some 
slight  consolation  to  those  of  us  who  knew 

ii 


PREFACE 

Lanoe  Hawker  to  think  that  he  fell  a  victim 
to  the  Germans'  best  man  and  not  to  a 
chance  shot  from  an  unworthy  foe. 

It  is  rather  curious  that  some  time  after 
emphasizing  the  fact  that  trickery  does  not 
pay  in  air  fighting,  von  Richtofen  should 
show  how  trickery  does  pay  by  describing  his 
young  brother  Lothar's  trick  of  pretending 
to  be  shot  and  letting  his  machine  fall  appar- 
ently out  of  control,  so  as  to  break  off  a  fight 
with  opponents  who  were  above  his  weight. 
One  is  inclined  to  wonder  how  many  opti- 
mistic young  air-fighters  have  reported 
enemy  machines  as  "driven  down  out  of  con- 
trol," when  in  reality  the  wily  Hun  has  only 
been  getting  out  of  the  way  of  harm.  The 
older  hands  in  these  days  are  not  easily 
caught  by  such  a  trick,  and  the  High  Com- 
mand refuses  to  count  any  victims  so  claimed 
unless  the  performance  is  verified  by  inde- 
pendent witnesses  either  on  the  ground  or 
aloft. 

Another  point  of  interest  in  von  Rich- 
thofen's  fighting  methods  is  that  he  states, 
that  as  a  rule,  he  opens  fire  at  50  yards.  Dis- 

12 


PREFACE 

tances  are  hard  to  judge  in  the  air.  The  pilot 
is  more  likely  to  underestimate  them  than 
otherwise,  just  as  one  does  in  judging  dis- 
tances at  sea.  But  von  Richthofen  is  prob- 
ably as  good  a  judge  as  any,  and  in  this  he 
seems  to  be  stating  a  plain  fact.  In  these 
days  50  yards  is  fairly  long  range.  Some  of 
our  own  crack  fighters  prefer  50  feet,  if  they 
can  get  into  their  favorite  positions.  Any- 
how he  shows  the  unwisdom  of  opening  fire 
at  1,000  yards,  as  some  inexperienced  and 
excited  machine-gunners  are  rather  apt 
to  do. 

Von  Richthofen's  chaser  squadron  —  or 
Jagdstaffel,  as  the  Germans  call  these  forma- 
tions— was  the  first  to  be  known  as  a 
"circus."  The  famous  Boelcke  squadron, 
although  a  fairly  mobile  body,  the  members 
of  which  co-operated  closely  on  occasion, 
never  developed  formation  fighting  to  the 
extent  that  von  Richthofen  did. 

His  men,  although,  as  the  book  shows, 
they  went  out  periodically  on  lone-hand 
ventures,  generally  flew  in  a  body,  number- 
ing anywhere  from  half  a  dozen  to  fifteen  or 

13 


PREFACE 

so.  Their  leader  chose  to  paint  his  little 
Albatros  a  brilliant  pillar-box  red.  The 
others  painted  their  machines  according  to 
their  fancy.  Some  had  yellow  noses,  blue 
bodies  and  green  wings.  Some  were  pale 
blue  underneath  and  black  on  top.  Some 
were  painted  in  streaks,  some  with  spots. 
In  fact,  they  rang  the  changes  on  the  whole 
of  the  paint-box. 

They  flew  wonderfully,  being  all  picked 
men,  and  in  a  fight  they  performed  in  a  man- 
ner which  would  have  seemed  impossible  to 
the  most  expert  aerial  acrobats. 

Also,  the  squadron  was  moved  from  place 
to  place  as  a  self-contained  unit,  so  that  it 
appeared  wherever  the  fighting  was  thick- 
est, or  wherever  British  or  French  recon- 
naissance machines  were  busiest.  It  would 
be  operating  at  Verdun  one  week.  The  next 
week  it  would  be  north  of  Arras.  A  few 
days  later  it  would  be  down  on  the  Somme. 
But  as  a  rule  it  specialized  on  the  British 
front.  Wherever  it  pitched  its  tents  it  did 
its  regular  squadron  performance,  and  fol- 
lowed it  later  in  the  day  with  lone-hand 

14 


PREFACE 


raids,  or  "strafing"  flight  by  two  or  three 
machines  at  a  time. 

When  one  considers  the  harlequin  coloring 
of  the  machines,  their  acrobatic  flying  and 
their  "two  shows  a  day"  performances  from 
their  one-week  pitches,  it  follows  logically 
that  the  humorists  of  the  R.F.C.  simply  had 
to  call  the  squadron  "von  Richthofen's 
Traveling  Circus." 

Since  then  the  word  has  acquired  a  mean- 
ing of  its  own  among  flying  men.  It  can- 
notes  practically  any  special  formation  or- 
ganized for  the  purpose  of  hunting  enemy 
aviators,  and  consisting  of  picked  men  under 
a  specially  skilful  leader.  It  need  not  neces- 
sarily be  more  mobile  than  any  other  squad- 
ron, and  it  need  not  indulge  in  freak  color- 
ings, though  in  the  nature  of  its  work,  its 
flying  must  be  acrobatic.  The  British 
"circuses"  are  in  these  days  superior  to  the 
German  circuses,  because  our  machines  are 
now  at  least  as  good  as  those  of  the  Ger- 
mans, and  so  our  men,  who  have  always  been 
of  higher  average  quality  than  the  German 
aviators,  have  a  fair  chance  of  proving  their 

15 


PREFACE 

Of  those  of  von  Richthofen's  circus  men- 
tioned in  the  book,  Schafer  was  the  first  to 
be  killed.  Before  the  war  he  lived  in  Lon- 
don, to  learn  English,  working  in  an  office 
in  the  city,  when  so  inclined,  but  mostly 
spending  his  time  on  the  river,  or  in  sport. 
Those  who  knew  him  say  that  he  was  a 
pleasant  lad  and  a  good  sportsman. 

Voss  was  the  next  to  go,  after  what  has 
been  described  by  those  who  were  in  it  as 
one  of  the  most  gallant  fights  of  the  war. 
On  a  Fokker  triplane  with  a  French  le 
Rhone  engine — evidently  an  experimental 
machine  built  for  quick  manoeuvring — he 
fought  single-handed  a  patrol  of  six  of  our 
people,  when  he  could  have  broken  off  the 
fight  and  have  got  away  by  abandoning  an 
inferior  companion.  He  was  a  brave  man  and 
a  most  brilliant  pilot.  His  flying  and  shoot- 
ing in  his  last  fight  are  said  to  have  been 
marvelously  clever.  None  admire  his  brav- 
ery more  than  those  who  fought  him. 

Others  of  the  "circus"  have  fallen  since 
then,  and  the  present  "Richthofen  Jagd- 
is  probably  constituted  very  differ- 

16 


PREFACE 

ently  from  that  band  of  high-spirited  desper- 
adoes which  was  evolved  from  the  original 
Boelcke  squadron,  and  helped  to  build  up 
the  fame  of  von  Richthofen.  There  is  none 
of  the  old  R.F.C.  who  would  not  cheerfully 
kill  what  is  left  of  the  "circus,"  and  there  is 
probably  none  who  would  not  gladly  shake 
hands  with  the  survivors  after  peace  is  de- 
clared. They  are  worthy  enemies  and  brave 
men. 

This  little  book  gives  one  a  useful  insight 
into  the  enemy's  methods,  and  more  than  a 
little  respect  for  at  any  rate  some  of  those 
whom  we  are  at  present  endeavoring  to  kill. 

C.  G.  GREY, 
EDITOB,  The  Aeroplane. 


My  Family. 

'T'HE  members  of  my  family — that  of 
*•  Richthofen — have  taken  no  very  great 
part  in  wars  until  now.  The  Richthofens 
have  always  lived  in  the  country;  indeed, 
there  has  scarcely  been  one  of  them  with- 
out a  landed  estate,  and  the  few  who  did 
not  live  in  the  country  have,  as  a  rule,  en- 
tered the  State  service.  My  grandfather 
and  all  my  ancestors  before  him  had  estates 
about  Breslau  and  Striegau.  Only  in  the 
generation  of  my  grandfather  it  happened 
that  the  first  Richthofen1  his  cousin,  became 
a  General. 

My  mother  belongs  to  the  family  Von 
Schickfuss  und  Neudorf.  Their  character 
resembles  that  of  the  Richthofen  people. 
There  were  a  few  soldiers  in  that  family. 

19 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

All  the  rest  were  agrarians.  The  brother  of 
rny  great-grandfather  Shickfuss  fell  in  1806. 
During  the  Revolution  of  1848  one  of  the 
finest  castles  of  a  Schickfuss  was  burnt 
down.  The  Schickfuss  have,  as  a  rule,  only 
become  Captains  of  the  Reserve. 

In  the  family  Schickfuss  and  in  the  family 
Falckenhausen — my  grandmother's  maiden 
name  was  Falckenhausen — there  were  two 
principal  hobbies:  horse  riding  and  game 
shooting.  My  mother's  brother,  Alexander 
Schickfuss,  has  done  a  great  deal  of  game 
shooting  in  Africa,  Ceylon,  Norway  and 
Hungary. 

My  father  is  practically  the  first  member 
of  our  branch  of  the  family  to  become  a 
professional  soldier.  At  an  early  age  he 
entered  the  Corps  of  Cadets  and  later 
joined  the  12th  Regiment  of  Uhlans.  He 
was  the  most  conscientious  soldier  imagin- 
able. He  began  to  suffer  from  difficulty  of 
hearing  and  had  to  resign.  He  got  ear 
trouble  because  he  saved  one  of  his  men 
from  drowning  and  though  he  was  wet 
through  and  through  he  insisted  upon  COn- 
20 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

tinuing  his  duties  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened, wet  as  he  was,  without  taking  notice 
of  the  rigor  of  the  weather.  The  present 
generation  of  the  Richthofens  contains,  of 
course,  many  more  soldiers.  In  war  every 
able-bodied  Richthofen  is,  of  course,  on 
active  service.  In  the  very  beginning  of  the 
present  war  I  lost  six  cousins,  and  all  were 
in  the  cavalry. 

I  was  named  after  my  uncle  Manfred, 
who'  in  peace  time,  was  adjutant  to  His 
Majesty  and  Commander  of  the  Corps  of 
the  Guards.  During  the  war  he  has  been 
Commander  of  a  Corps  of  Cavalry. 

My  father  was  in  the  1st  Regiment  of 
Cuirassiers  in  Breslau  when  I  was  born  on 
the  2nd  of  May,  1892.  We  then  lived  at 
Kleinburg.  I  received  tuition  privately  until 
my  ninth  year.  Then  I  went  for  a  year  to 
school  in  Schweidnitz  and  then  I  became 
Cadet  in  Wahlstatt.  The  people  of  Schweid- 
nitz considered  me  as  one  of  themselves. 
Having  been  prepared  for  a  military  career 
as  a  Cadet,  I  entered  the  1st  Regiment  of 
Uhlans. 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

My  own  adventures  and  experiences  will 
be  found  in  this  book. 

My  brother,  Lothar,  is  the  other  flying- 
man  Richthofen.  He  wears  the  Ordre  pour 
le  Merite.  My  youngest  brother  is  still  in 
the  Corps  of  Cadets  and  he  is  waiting 
anxiously  until  he  is  old  enough  to  go  on 
active  service.  My  sister,  like  all  the  ladies 
of  our  family,  is  occupied  in  nursing  the 
wounded. 

My  Life  as  a  Cadet 

A  S  a  little  boy  of  eleven  I  entered  the 
•*^  Cadet  Corps.  I  was  not  particularly 
eager  to  become  a  Cadet,  but  my  father 
wished  it.  So  my  wishes  were  not  con- 
sulted. 

I  found  it  difficult  to  bear  the  strict  dis- 
cipline and  to  keep  order.  I  did  not  care 
very  much  for  the  instruction  I  received. 
I  never  was  good  at  learning*  things.  I  did 
just  enough  work  to  pass.  In  my  opinion  it 
would  have  been  wrong  to  do  more  than  was 
just  sufficient,  so  I  worked  as  little  as  pos- 
sible. The  consequence  was  that  my  teach- 
ers did  not  think  overmuch  of  me.  On  the 

22 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

other  hand,  I  was  very  fond  of  sport.  Par- 
ticularly I  liked  gymnastics,  football,  and 
other  outdoor  amusements.  I  could  do  all 
kinds  of  tricks  on  the  horizontal  bar.  For 
this  I  received  various  prizes  from  the  Com- 
mander. 

I  had  a  tremendous  liking  for  all  risky 
foolery.  For  instance,  one  fine  day,  with  my 
friend  Frankenberg,  I  climbed  the  famous 
steeple  of  Wahlstatt  by  means  of  the  light- 
ning conductor  and  tied  my  handkerchief  to 
the  top.  I  remember  exactly  how  difficult 
it  was  to  negotiate  the  gutters.  Ten  years 
later,  when  I  visited  my  little  brother  at 
Wahlstatt,  I  saw  my  handkerchief  still  tied 
up  high  in  the  air. 

My  friend  Frankenberg  was  the  first 
victim  of  the  war  as  far  as  I  know. 

I  liked  very  much  better  the  Institution 
of  Lichterfelde.  I  did  not  feel  so  isolated 
from  the  world  and  began  to  live  a  little 
more  like  a  human  being. 

My  happiest  reminiscences  of  Lichter- 
felde are  those  of  the  great  sports  when  my 
opponent  was  Prince  Frederick  Charles.  The 

23 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Prince  gained  many  first  prizes  against  me 
both  in  running  and  football,  as  I  had  not 
trained  my  body  as  perfectly  as  he  had  done. 

/  Enter  th$  Army.     (Easter,  ipi/); 

F  course,  I  was  very  impatient  to  get  into 
the  Army.  Immediately  after  passing 
my  examination  I  came  forward  and  was 
placed  in  the  1st  Regiment  of  Uhlans,  "Em- 
peror Alexander  III."  I  had  selected  that 
regiment.  It  was  garrisoned  in  my  beloved 
Silesia  and  I  had  some  acquaintances  and 
relations  there,  who  advised  me  to  join  it. 

I  had  a  colossal  liking  for  the  service  with 
my  regiment.  It  is  the  finest  thing  for  a 
young  soldier  to  be  a  cavalry  man. 

I  can  say  only  little  about  the  time  which 
I  passed  at  the  War  Academy.  My  experi- 
ence there  reminds  me  too  much  of  the 
Corps  of  Cadets  and  consequently  my 
reminiscences  are  not  over  agreeable. 

I  remember  that  once  one  of  my  teachers 
bought  a  very  fat  mare,  an  amiable  animal, 
whose  only  fault  was  that  she  was  rather 
old.  She  was  supposed  to  be  fifteen  years 

24 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

old.  She  had  rather  stout  legs,  but  she 
jumped  splendidly.  I  rode  her  frequently, 
and  her  name  was  Biffy. 

About  a  year  later,  when  I  joined  the  regi- 
ment, my  Captain,  von  Tr ,  who  was  very 

fond  of  sport,  told  me  that  he  had  bought 
a  funny  little  mare,  a  fat  beast,  who  jumped 
very  nicely.  We  all  were  very  interested 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  fat  jumping 
horse  who  bore  the  strange  name  Biffy.  I 
had  quite  forgotten  the  old  mare  of  my 
teacher  at  the  War  Academy.  One  fine 
morning,  the  animal  arrived  and  I  was  as- 
tonished to  find  that  the  ancient  Biffy  was 
now  standing  as  an  eight-year-old  in  the 
Captain's  stable.  In  the  meantime,  she  had 
changed  her  master  repeatedly,  and  had 
much  risen  in  value.  My  teacher  had  bought 
her  for  $375.,  as  a  fifteen-year-old,  and  von 

Tr had  bought  her  a  year  later,  as  an 

eight-year-old,  for  $850.  She  won  no  more 
prizes  for  jumping,  in  spite  of  her  renewed 
youth,  but  she  changed  her  master  once 
more  and  was  killed  in  action  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  war. 

25 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

/  Become  an  Officer.     (Autumn, 

A  T  last  I  was  given  the  epaulettes.  It 
**•  was  a  glorious  feeling,  the  finest  I  have 
ever  experienced  when  people  called  me 
Lieutenant. 

My  father  bought  me  a  beautiful  mare 
called  Santuzza.  It  was  a  marvelous  animal, 
as  hard  as  nails.  She  kept  her  place  in  the 
procession  like  a  lamb.  In  course  of  time 
I  discovered  that  she  possessed  a  great  talent 
for  jumping  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  train 
her.  She  jumped  incredible  heights. 

In  this  enterprise  I  got  much  sympathy 
and  co-operation  from  my  comrade  von 
Wedel*  who  won  many  a  prize  with  his 
charger,  Fandango. 

We  two  trained  our  horses  for  a  jumping 
competition  and  a  steeplechase  in  Breslau. 
Fandango  did  gloriously.  Santuzza  also  did 
well  by  taking  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  I 
hoped  to  achieve  something  with  her.  On 
the  day  before  she  was  to  be  put  on  the 
train  I  wished  once  more  to  jump  all  the 
obstacles  in  our  training  ground.  In  doing 

26 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

so  we  slipped.  Santuzza  hurt  her  shoulder 
and  I  broke  my  collar-bone. 

I  expected  that  my  dear  fat  mare,  San- 
tuzza, would  also  be  a  quick  runner  and  was 
extremely  surprised  when  she  was  beaten 
by  WedePs  thoroughbred. 

Another  time  I  had  the  good  fortune  to 
ride  a  very  fine  horse  at  a  Sports  Meeting 
at  Breslau.  My  horse  did  extremely  well 
and  I  had  hopes  of  succeeding.  After  a  run 
of  about  half  the  course  I  approached  the 
last  obstacle.  At  a  long  distance  I  saw  that 
the  obstacle  in  front  was  bound  to  be  some- 
thing extraordinary  because  a  great  crowd 
was  watching  near  it.  I  said  to  myself: 
"Keep  your  spirits  up.  You  are  sure  to  get 
into  trouble."  I  approached  the  obstacle, 
going  full  speed.  The  people  about  waved 
to  me  and  shouted  that  I  should  not  go  so 
fast,  but  I  neither  heard  nor  saw.  My  horse 
jumped  over  and  on  the  other  side  there  was 
a  steep  slope  with  the  river  Weistritz  in 
front.  Before  I  could  say  knife  the  horse, 
having  jumped,  fell  with  a  gigantic  leap  into 
the  river  and  horse  and  rider  disappeared. 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Of  course,  I  was  thrown  over  the  head  of  the 
animal.  Felix  got  out  of  the  river  on  the 
one  side  and  I  on  the  other.  When  I  came 
back,  the  weighing  people  were  surprised 
that  I  had  put  on  ten  pounds  instead  of  los- 
ing two  pounds  as  usual.  Happily  no  one 
noticed  that  I  was  wet  through  and  through. 
I  had  also  a  very  good  charger.  The  un- 
fortunate beast  had  learned  to  do  every- 
thing—  running,  steeplechasing,  jumping, 
army  service.  There  was  nothing  that  the 
poor  beast  had  not  learned.  Its  name  was 
Blume  and  I  had  some  pleasant  successes 
with  him.  The  last  prize  I  got  riding  that 
horse  was  when  I  rode  for  the  Kaiser  Prize 
in  1913.  I  was  the  only  one  who  got  over 
the  whole  course  without  a  single  slip.  In 
doing  so  I  had  an  experience  which  cannot 
easily  be  repeated.  In  galloping  over  a  piece 
of  heath  land,  I  suddenly  stood  on  my  head. 
The  horse  had  stepped  into  a  rabbit  hole  and 
in  my  fall  I  broke  my  collar-bone.  Notwith- 
standing the  breakage'  I  rode  another  forty 
miles  without  making  a  mistake  and  arrived 
keeping  good  time. 


n 


The  Outbreak  of  War 

A  LL  the  papers  contained  nothing  but 
•**•  fantastic  stories  about  the  war.  How- 
ever, for  several  months  we  had  been  ac- 
customed to  war  talk.  We  had  so  often 
packed  our  service  trunks  that  the  whole 
thing  had  become  tedious.  No  one  believed 
any  longer  that  there  would  be  war.  We, 
who  were  close  to  the  frontier,  who  were 
"the  eyes  of  the  Army,"  to  use  the  words  of 
my  Commander,  believed  least  that  there 
would  be  war. 

On  the  day  before  military  preparations 
began  we  were  sitting  with  the  people  of 
the  detached  squadron  at  a  distance  of  ten 
kilometres  from  the  frontier,  in  the  officers' 
club.  We  were  eating  oysters,  drinking 
champagne  and  gambling  a  little.  We  were 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

very    merry.      No    one    thought    of    war. 

It  is  true  that,  some  days  before,  Wedel's 
mother  had  startled  us  a  little.  She  had  ar- 
rived from  Pomerania  in  order  to  see  her  son 
before  the  beginning  of  the  war.  As  she 
found  us  in  the  pleasantest  mood  and  as  she 
ascertained  that  we  did  not  think  of  war, 
she  felt  morally  compelled  to  invite  us  to  a 
very  decent  luncheon. 

We  were  extremely  gay  and  noisy  when 
suddenly  the  door  opened.  It  disclosed 
Count  Kospoth,  the  Administrator  of  Ols. 
He  looked  like  a  ghost. 

We  greeted  our  old  friend  with  a  loud 
Hoorah!  He  explained  to  us  the  reason  of 
his  arrival.  He  had  come  personally  to  the 
frontier  in  order  to  convince  himself  whether 
the  rumors  of  an  impending  world-war  were 
true.  He  assumed,  quite  correctly  that  the 
best  information  could  be  obtained  at  the 
frontier.  He  was  not  a  little  surprised  when 
he  saw  our  peaceful  assembly.  We  learned 
from  him  that  all  the  bridges  in  Silesia  were 
being  patrolled  by  the  military  and  that  steps 
were  being  taken  to  fortify  various  positions. 

30 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

We  convinced  him  quickly  that  the  possi- 
bility of  war  was  absolutely  nil  and  con- 
tinued our  festivity. 

On  the  next  day  we  were  ordered  to  take 
the  field. 

We  Cross  the  Frontier 

TTO  us  cavalry  men  on  the  frontier  the 
*•  word  "war"  had  nothing  unfamiliar. 
Everyone  of  us  knew  to  the  smallest  detail 
what  to  do  and  what  to  leave  undone.  At 
the  same  time,  nobody  had  a  very  clear  idea, 
what  the  first  thing  would  be.  Every 
soldier  was  delighted  to  be  able  to  show  his 
capacity  and  his  personal  value. 

We  young  cavalry  Lieutenants  had  the 
most  interesting  task.  We  were  to  study 
the  ground,  to  work  towards  the  rear  of  the 
enemy,  and  to  destroy  important  objects. 
All  these  tasks  require  real  men. 

Having  in  my  pocket  my  directions  and 
having  convinced  myself  of  their  impor- 
tance, through  hard  study  during  at  least  a 
year,  I  rode  at  the  head  of  a  file  of  soldiers 
for  the  first  time  against  the  enemy  at 
twelve  o'clock  midnight. 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

A  river  marks  the  frontier  and  I  expected 
to  be  fired  upon  on  reaching  it.  To  my  as- 
tonishment I  could  pass  over  the  bridge 
without  an  incident.  On  the  next  morning, 
without  having  had  any  adventures,  we 
reached  the  church  tower  of  the  village  of 
Kieltze,  which  was  well  known  to  us  through 
our  frontier  rides. 

Everything  had  happened  without  seeing 
anything  of  the  enemy  or  rather  without 
being  seen  by  him.  The  question  now  was 
what  should  I  do  in  order  not  to  be  noticed 
by  the  villagers?  My  first  idea  was  to  lock 
up  the  "pope"*.  We  fetched  him  from  his 
house,  to  his  great  surprise.  I  locked  him 
up  among  the  bells  in  the  church  tower,  took 
away  the  ladder  and  left  him  sitting  up 
above.  I  assured  him  that  he  would  be  exe- 
cuted if  the  population  should  show  any 
hostile  inclinations.  A  sentinel  placed  on  the 
tower  observed  the  neighborhood. 

I  had  to  send  reports  every  day  by  dis- 
patch-riders. Very  soon  my  small  troop 
was  converted  entirely  into  dispatch-riders 

•Russian  priest. 

'X 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

and  dissolved,  so  that  I  had  at  last,  as  the 
only  one  remaining,  to  bring  in  my  own 
report. 

Up  to  the  fifth  night  everything  had  been 
quiet.  During  that  nigljt  the  sentinel  came 
suddenly  rushing  to  the  church  tower  near 
which  the  horses  had  been  put.  He  called 
out,  "The  Cossacks  are  there!"  The  night 
was  as  dark  as  pitch.  It  rained  a  little.  No 
stars  were  visible.  One  couldn't  see  a  yard 
ahead. 

As  a  precaution  we  had  previously 
breached  the  wall  around  the  churchyard. 
Through  the  breach  we  took  the  horses  into 
the  open.  The  darkness  was  so  great  that 
we  were  in  perfect  security  after  having  ad- 
vanced fifty  yards.  I  myself  went  with  the 
sentinel,  carbine  in  hand,  to  the  place  where 
he  pretended  he  had  seen  Cossacks. 

Gliding  along  the  churchyard  wall  I  came 
to  the  street.  When  I  got  there  I  experi- 
enced a  queer  feeling,  for  the  street  swarmed 
with  Cossacks.  I  looked  over  the  wall,  be- 
hind which  the  rascals  had  put  the  horses. 
Most  of  them  had  lanterns,  and  they  acted 

33 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

very  uncautiously  and  were  very  loud.  I  esti- 
mated that  there  were  from  twenty  to  thirty 
of  them.  One  had  left  his  horse  and  gone  to 
the  Pope  whom  I  had  let  off  the  day  before. 

Immediately  it  flashed  through  my  brain : 
"Of  course  we  are  betrayed!"  Therefore, 
we  had  to  be  doubly  careful.  I  could  not 
risk  a  fight  because  I  could  not  dispose  of 
more  than  two  carbines.  Therefore,  I  re- 
solved to  play  at  robber  and  police. 

After  having  rested  a  few  hours,  our 
visitors  rode  away  again. 

On  the  next  day  I  thought  it  wise  to 
change  our  quarters.  On  the  seventh  day 
I  was  again  back  in  my  garrison  and  every- 
one stared  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  ghost.  The 
staring  was  not  due  to  my  unshaved  face, 
but  because  there  had  been  a  rumor  that 
Wedel  and  I  had  fallen  at  Kalisch.  The 
place  where  it  had  occurred,  the  time  and  all 
the  circumstances  of  my  death  had  been  re- 
ported with  such  a  wealth  of  detail  that  the 
report  had  spread  throughout  Silesia.  My 
mother  had  already  received  visits  of  con- 
dolence. The  only  thing  that  had  been 

34 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

omitted  was  an  announcement  of  my  death 
in  the  newspaper. 

An  amusing  incident  happened  about  the 
same  time.  A  veterinary  surgeon  had  been 
ordered  to  take  ten  Uhlans  and  to  requisi- 
tion horses  on  a  farm.  The  farm  was  situ- 
ated about  two  miles  from  the  road.  He 
came  back  full  of  excitement  and  reported 
to  us: 

"I  was  riding  over  a  stubble  field,  the  field 
where  the  scarecrows  are,  when  I  suddenly 
saw  hostile  infantry  at  a  distance.  With- 
out a  moment's  hesitation  I  drew  my  sword 
and  ordered  the  Uhlans  to  attack  them  with 
their  lances.  The  men  were  delighted  and 
at  the  fastest  gallop  they  rushed  across  the 
field.  When  we  came  near  the  enemy  I  dis- 
covered that  the  hostile  infantry  consisted 
of  some  deer  which  were  grazing  in  a  near- 
by meadow.  At  that  distance  I  had  mis- 
taken them  for  soldiers,  owing  to  my  short- 
sightedness." 

For  a  long  time  that  dear  gentleman  had 
to  suffer  the  pleasantries  of  the  rest  of  us 
because  of  his  bold  attack. 

35 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

To  France 

were  ordered  to  take  the  train  in 
my  garrison  town.  No  one  had  any 
idea  in  what  direction  we  were  to  go. 

There  were  many  rumors  but  most  of  the 
talk  was  very  wild.  However,  in  this  present 
case,  we  had  the  right  idea :  westward. 

A  second-class  compartment  had  been 
given  to  four  of  us.  We  had  to  take  in 
provisions  for  a  long  railway  journey. 
Liquid  refreshments,  of  course,  were  not 
lacking.  However,  already  on  the  first  day 
we  discovered  that  a  second-class  compart- 
ment is  altogether  too  narrow  for  four  war- 
like youths.  Therefore,  we  resolved  to  dis- 
tribute ourselves.  I  arranged  part  of  a 
luggage  car  and  converted  it  into  a  bed- 
drawing  room,  to  my  great  advantage.  I 
had  light,  air,  and  plenty  of  space.  I  pro- 
cured straw  at  one  of  the  stations  and  put 
a  tent  cloth  on  top  of  it.  In  my  improvised 
sleeping-car  I  slept  as  well  as  I  did  in  my 
four-poster  in  Ostrowo.  We  traveled  night 
and  day,  first  through  Silesia,  and  then 
through  S"xony,  going  westward  all  the 

36 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

time.  Apparently  we  were  going  in  the 
direction  of  Metz.  Even  the  train  conductor 
did  not  know  where  he  was  going  to.  At 
every  station,  even  at  stations  where  we  did 
not  stop,  there  were  huge  crowds  of  men 
and  women  who  bombarded  us  with  cheers 
and  flowers.  The  German  nation  had  been 
seized  by  a  wild  war  enthusiasm.  That  was 
evident.  The  Uhlans  were  particularly  ad- 
mired. The  men  in  the  train  who  had  passed 
through  the  station  before  us  had  probably 
reported  that  we  had  met  the  enemy,  and 
we  had  been  at  war  only  for  a  week.  Be- 
sides, my  regiment  had  been  mentioned  in 
the  first  official  communique.  The  1st  Regi- 
ment of  Uhlans  and  the  155th  Regiment  of 
Infantry  had  taken  Kalisch.  We  were  there- 
fore celebrated  as  heroes  and  naturally  felt 
like  heroes.  Wedel  had  found  a  Cossack 
sword  which  he  showed  to  admiring  girls. 
He  made  a  great  impression  with  it.  Of 
course  we  asserted  that  blood  was  sticking 
to  it  and  we  invented  hair-raising  tales  about 
this  peaceful  sword  of  a  police  officer.  We 
were  very  wild  and  merry  until  we  were 

37 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

disembarked  from  the  train  at  Busendorf, 
near  Diedenhofen. 

A  short  time  before  the  train  arrived  we 
were  held  up  in  a  long  tunnel.  It  is  un- 
comfortable enough  to  stop  in  a  tunnel  in 
peace  time,  but  to  stop  suddenly  in  war  is 
still  more  uncomfortable.  Some  excited, 
high-spirited  fellow  wanted  to  play  a  joke 
and  fired  a  shot.  Before  long  there  was 
general  firing  in  the  tunnel.  It  was  sur- 
prising that  no  one  was  hurt.  It  has  never 
been  found  out  how  the  general  shooting 
was  brought  about. 

At  Busendorf  we  had  to  get  out  of  the 
train.  The  heat  was  so  great  that  our  horses 
almost  collapsed.  On  the  following  day  we 
marched  unceasingly  northward  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Luxemburg.  In  the  meantime,  I  had 
discovered  that  my  brother  had  ridden  in 
the  same  direction  with  a  cavalry  division  a 
week  before.  I  discovered  his  spoor  once 
more,  but  I  didn't  see  him  until  a  year  later. 

Arrived  in  Luxemburg  no  one  knew  what 
were  our  relations  with  the  people  of  that 
little  State.  When  I  saw  a  Luxemburg 

38 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

prisoner,  he  told  me  that  he  would  com- 
plain about  me  to  the  German  Emperor  if 
I  did  not  set  him  free  immediately.  I 
thought  there  was  reason  in  what  he  said. 
So  I  let  him  go.  We  passed  through  the 
town  of  Luxemburg  and  through  Esch  and 
we  approached  the  first  fortified  towns  of 
Belgium. 

While  advancing  our  infantry,  and  in- 
deed, our  whole  division,  manoeuvred  ex- 
actly as  in  peace  time.  All  were  extremely 
excited.  It  was  a  good  thing  that  we  had 
to  act  exactly  as  we  had  done  at  manoeuvres, 
otherwise'  we  should  certainly  have  done 
some  wild  things.  To  the  right  and  to  the 
left  of  us,  before  and  behind  us,  on  every 
road,  marched  troops  belonging  to  different 
army  corps.  One  had  the  feeling  that 
everything  was  in  a  great  disorder.  Sud- 
denly, this  unspeakable  cuddle-muddle  was 
dissolved  and  became  a  most  wonderfully 
arranged  evolution. 

I  was  entirely  ignorant  about  the  activi- 
ties of  our  flying  men,  and  I  got  tremen- 
dously excited  whenever  I  saw  an  aviator. 

39 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Of  course  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea 
whether  it  was  a  German  airman,  or  an 
enemy.  I  had  at  that  time  not  even  the 
knowledge  that  the  German  machines  were 
marked  with  crosses  and  the  enemy  ma- 
chines with  circles.  The  consequence  was 
that  every  aeroplane  we  saw  was  fired  upon. 
Our  old  pilots  are  still  telling  of  their  painful 
feelings  while  being  shot  at  by  friend  and 
enemy  with  perfect  impartiality. 

We  marched  and  marched,  sending  patrols 
far  ahead,  until  we  arrived  at  Arlon.  I  had 
an  uneasy  feeling  when  crossing,  for  a  sec- 
ond time,  an  enemy  frontier.  Obscure  re- 
ports of  francs-tireurs,  had  already  come  to 
my  ears. 

I  had  been  ordered  to  work  in  connection 
with  my  cavalry  division,  acting  as  a  con- 
necting link.  On  that  day  I  had  ridden  no 
less  than  sixty-six  miles*  with  my  men.  Not 
a  horse  failed  us.  That  was  a  splendid 
achievement.  At  Arlon  I  climbed  the  steeple 
in  accordance  with  the  tactical  principles 

*Thi§  teemi  to  b«  a  translator'!  mistsk*  for  kilometre*,  which 
would  me»n  *  'ittl»  orer  40  miles— in  itMlf  a  sufficient];-  fin*  yw- 
formano*. 

40 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

which  we  had  been  taught  in  peace  time. 
Of  course,  I  saw  nothing,  for  the  wicked 
enemy  was  still  far  away. 

At  that  time  we  were  very  harmless.  For 
instance,  I  had  my  men  outside  the  town 
and  had  ridden  alone  on  bicycle  right 
through  the  town  to  the  church  tower  and 
ascended  it.  When  I  came  down  again  I  was 
surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  angry  young  men 
who  made  hostile  eyes  and  who  talked 
threateningly  in  undertones.  My  bicycle 
had,  of  course,  been  punctured  and  I  had 
to  go  on  foot  for  half  an  hour.  This  inci- 
dent amused  me.  I  should  have  been  de- 
lighted had  it  come  to  a  fight.  I  felt  abso- 
lutely sure  of  myself  with  a  pistol  in  my 
hand. 

Later  on  I  heard  that  several  days  previ- 
ously, the  inhabitants  had  behaved  very 
seditiously  towards  our  cavalry,  and  later 
on  towards  our  hospitals.  It  had  therefore 
been  found  necessary  to  place  quite  a  num- 
ber of  these  gentlemen  against  the  wall. 

In  the  afternoon  I  reached  the  station  to 
which  I  had  been  ordered,  and  learned  that 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

close  to  Arlon  my  only  cousin  Richthofen 
had  been  killed  three  days  before.  During 
the  rest  of  the  day  I  stayed  with  the  Cav- 
alry Division.  During  the  night  a  cause- 
less alarm  took  place,  and  late  at  night  I 
reached  my  own  regiment. 

That  was  a  beautiful  time.  We  cavalry 
men  who  had  already  been  in  touch  with  the 
enemy  and  had  seen  something  of  war, 
were  envied  by  the  men  of  the  other  armies. 
For  me  it  was  the  most  beautiful  time  during 
the  whole  of  the  war.  I  would  much  like 
to  pass  again  through  the  beginning  of  the 
war. 

/  Hear  the  Whistling  of  the  First 
Bullets.     (2i-22nd  August,  ip/5) 

T  had  been  ordered  to  find  out  the  strength 
*  of  the  enemy  occupying  the  large  forest 
near  Virton.  I  started  with  fifteen  Uhlans 
and  said  to  myself:  "To-day  I  shall  have 
the  first  fight  with  the  enemy."  But  my 
task  was  not  easy.  In  so  big  a  forest  there 
may  be  lots  of  things  hidden  which  one  can 
not  see. 


42 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

I  went  to  the  top  of  a  little  hill.  A  few 
hundred  paces  in  front  of  me  was  a  huge 
forest  extending  over  many  thousands  of 
acres.  It  was  a  beautiful  August  morning. 
The  forest  seemed  so  peaceful  and  still  that 
I  almost  forgot  all  my  war-like  ideas. 

We  approached  the  margin  of  the  forest. 
As  we  could  not  discover  anything  suspi- 
cious with  our  field  glasses  we  had  to  go 
near  and  find  out  whether  we  should  be  fired 
upon.  The  men  in  front  were  swallowed  up 
by  a  forest  lane.  I  followed  and  at  my  side 
was  one  of  my  best  Uhlans.  At  the  entrance 
to  the  forest  was  a  lonely  forester's  cottage. 
We  rode  past  it. 

The  soil  indicated  that  a  short  time  pre- 
viously considerable  numbers  of  hostile 
cavalry  must  have  passed.  I  stopped  my 
men,  encouraged  them  by  addressing  a  few 
words  to  them,  and  felt  sure  that  I  could 
absolutely  rely  upon  everyone  of  my 
soldiers.  Of  course  no  one  thought  of  any- 
thing except  of  attacking  the  enemy.  It 
lies  in  the  instinct  of  every  German  to  rush 
at  the  enemy  wherever  he  meets  him,  par- 

43 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

ticularly  if  he  meets  hostile  cavalry.  In  mv 
mind's  eye  I  saw  myself  at  the  head  of  my 
little  troop  sabering  a  hostile  squadron,  and 
was  quite  intoxicated  with  joyful  expecta- 
tion. The  eyes  of  my  Uhlans  sparkled.  Thus 
we  followed  the  spoor  at  a  rapid  trot.  After 
a  sharp  ride  of  an  hour  through  the  most 
beautiful  mountaindale-  the  wood  became 
thinner.  We  approached  the  exit.  I  felt 
convinced  that  there  we  should  meet  the 
enemy.  Therefore,  caution!  To  the  right 
of  our  narrow  path  was  a  steep  rocky  wall 
many  yards  high.  To  the  left,  was  a  narrow 
rivulet  and  at  the  further  side  a  meadow, 
fifty  yards  wide,  surrounded  by  barbed  wire. 
Suddenly,  the  trace  of  horses'  hooves  disap- 
peared over  a  bridge  into  the  bushes.  My 
leading  men  stopped  because  the  exit  from 
the  forest  was  blocked  by  a  barricade. 

Immediately  I  recognized  that  I  had  fallen 
into  a  trap.  I  saw  a  movement  among  the 
bushes  behind  the  meadow  at  my  left  and 
noticed  dismounted  hostile  cavalry.  I  esti- 
mated that  there  were  fully  one  hundred 
rifles.  In  that  direction  nothing  could  be 

44 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

done.  My  path  right  ahead  was  cut  by  the 
barricade.  To  the  right  were  steep  rocks.  To 
the  left  the  barbed  wire  surrounded  the 
meadow  and  prevented  me  attacking  as  I  had 
intended.  Nothing  was  to  be  done  except  to 
go  back.  I  knew  that  my  dear  Uhlans  would 
be  willing  to  do  everything  except  to  run 
away  from  the  enemy.  That  spoilt  our  fun, 
for  a  second  later  we  heard  the  first  shot 
which  was  followed  by  very  intensive  rifle 
fire  from  the  wood.  The  distance  was  from 
fifty  to  one  hundred  yards.  I  had  told  my 
men  that  they  should  join  me  immediately 
when  they  saw  me  lifting  up  my  hand.  I 
felt  sure  we  had  to  go  back.  So  I  lifted  my 
arm  and  beckoned  my  men  to  follow.  Pos- 
sibly, they  misunderstood  my  gesture.  The 
cavalrymen  who  were  following  me  believed 
me  in  danger,  and  they  came  rushing  along 
at  a  great  speed  to  help  me  to  get  away.  As 
we  were  on  a  narrow  forest  path  one  can 
imagine  the  confusion  which  followed.  The 
a  panic  because  the  noise  of  every  shot  was 
increased  tenfold  by  the  narrowness  of  the 
horses  of  the  two  men  ahead  rushed  away  in 

45 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

hollow  way.  The  last  I  saw  of  them  was 
as  they  leaped  the  barricade.  I  never  heard 
anything  of  them  again.  They  were  no 
doubt  made  prisoners.  I  myself  turned  my 
horse  and  gave  him  the  spurs,  probably  for 
the  first  time  during  his  life.  I  had  the 
greatest  difficulty  to  make  the  Uhlans  who 
rushed  towards  me  understand  that  they 
should  not  advance  any  further,  that  we 
were  to  turn  round  and  get  away.  My 
orderly  rode  at  my  side.  Suddenly  his  horse 
was  hit  and  fell.  I  jumped  over  them  and 
horses  were  rolling  all  around  me.  In  short' 
it  was  a  wild  disorder.  The  last  I  saw  of  my 
servant,  he  was  lying  under  his  horse,  ap- 
parently not  wounded,  but  pinned  down  by 
the  weight  of  the  animal.  The  enemy  had 
beautifully  surprised  us.  He  had  probably 
observed  us  from  the  very  beginning  and 
had  intended  to  trap  us  and  to  catch  us  una- 
wares as  is  the  character  of  the  French. 

I  was  delighted  when,  two  days  later,  I 
saw  my  servant  standing  before  me.  He 
wore  only  one  boot  for  he  had  left  the  other 
one  under  the  body  of  his  horse.  He  told 

46 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

me  how  he  had  escaped.  At  least  two  squad- 
rons of  French  cuirassiers  had  issued  from 
the  forest  in  order  to  plunder  the  fallen 
horses  and  the  brave  Uhlans.  Not  being 
wounded,  he  had  jumped  up,  climbed  the 
rocks  and  had  fallen  down  exhausted  among 
the  bushes.  About  two  hours  later,  when  the 
enemy  had  again  hidden  himself,  he  had  con- 
tinued his  flight.  So  he  had  joined  me  after 
some  days,  but  he  could  tell  me  little  about 
the  fate  of  his  comrades  who  had  been  left 
behind. 

A  Ride  With  Loen 

HTHE  battle  of  Virton  was  proceeding. 
*  My  comrade  Loen  and  I  had  once  more 
to  ascertain  what  had  become  of  the  enemy. 
We  rode  after  the  enemy  during  the  whole 
of  the  day,  reached  him  at  last  and  were 
able  to  write  a  very  decent  report.  In  the 
evening,  the  great  question  was:  Shall  we 
go  on  riding,  throughout  the  night  in  order 
to  join  our  troops,  or  shall  we  economize  our 
strength  and  take  a  rest  so  that  we  shall 
be  fresh  the  next  day?  The  splendid  thing 

47 


THE     RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

about  cavalrymen  on  patrol  is  that  they  are 
given  complete  liberty  of  action. 

We  resolved  to  pass  the  night  near  the 
enemy  and  to  ride  on  the  next  morning.  Ac- 
cording to  our  strategical  notions,  the  enemy 
was  retiring  and  we  were  following  him. 
Consequently,  we  could  pass  the  night  with 
fair  security. 

Not  far  from  the  enemy  there  was  a  won- 
derful monastery  with  large  stables.  So 
both  Loen  and  I  had  quarters  for  ourselves 
and  our  men.  Of  course,  in  the  evening, 
when  we  entered  our  new  domicile,  the 
enemy  was  so  near  that  he  could  have  shot 
us  through  the  windows. 

The  monks  were  extremely  amiable.  They 
gave  us  as  much  to  eat  and  to  drink  as  we 
cared  to  have  and  we  had  a  very  good  time. 
The  saddles  were  taken  off  the  horses  and 
they  were  very  happy  when  for  the  first  time 
in  three  days  and  three  nights,  a  dead  weight 
of  nearly  three  hundred  pounds  was  taken 
from  their  backs.  We  settled  down  as  if 
we  were  on  manoeuvres  and  as  if  we  were 
in  the  house  of  a  delightful  host  and  friend. 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

At  the  same  time,  it  should  be  observed 
that  three  days  later,  we  hanged  several  of 
our  hosts  to  the  lanterns  because  they  could 
not  overcome  their  desire  to  take  a  hand  in 
the  war.  But  that  evening  they  were  really 
extremely  amiable.  We  got  into  our  night- 
shirts, jumped  into  bed,  posted  a  sentinel, 
and  let  the  Lord  look  after  us. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  somebody  sud- 
denly flung  open  the  door  and  shouted: 
"Sir,  the  French  are  there!"  I  was  too 
sleepy  and  too  heavy  to  be  able  to  reply. 
Loen,  who  was  similarly  incapacitated,  gave 
the  most  intelligent  answer:  "How  many 
are  they?"  The  soldier  stammered,  full  of 
excitement'  "We  have  shot  dead  two,  but 
we  cannot  say  how  many  there  are  for  it  is 
pitch  dark."  I  heard  Loen  reply,  in  a  sleepy 
tone :  "All  right.  When  more  arrive  call  me 
again."  Half  a  minute  later  both  of  us  were 
snoring  again. 

The  sun  was  already  high  in  the  heavens 
when  we  woke  up  from  a  refreshing  sleep 
the  next  morning.  We  took  an  ample  break- 
fast and  then  continued  our  journey. 

49 


THE     RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  French  had  passed 
by  our  castle  during  the  night  and  our  senti- 
nels had  fired  on  them.  As  it  was  a  very 
dark  night  nothing  further  followed. 

Soon  we  passed  through  a  pretty  valley. 
We  rode  over  the  old  battlefield  of  our 
Division  and  discovered,  to  our  surprise,  that 
it  was  peopled  not  with  German  soldiers,  but 
with  French  Red  Cross  men.  Here  and 
there  were  French  soldiers.  They  looked  as 
surprised  at  seeing  us  as  we  did  at  seeing 
them.  Nobody  thought  of  shooting.  We 
cleared  out  as  rapidly  as  possible  and  gradu- 
ally it  dawned  upon  us  that  our  troops,  in- 
stead of  advancing,  had  retired.  Fortun- 
ately, the  enemy  had  retired  at  the  same 
time  in  the  opposite  direction.  Otherwise 
I  should  now  be  somewhere  in  captivity. 

We  passed  through  the  village  of  Robel- 
mont  where,  on  the  previous  day,  we  had 
seen  our  Infantry  in  occupation.  We  en- 
countered one  of  the  inhabitants  and  asked 
him  what  had  become  of  our  soldiers.  He 
looked  very  happy  and  assured  me  that  the 
Germans  had  departed. 


THE     RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

Late  in  the  afternoon  I  reached  my  regi- 
ment and  was  quite  satisfied  with  the  course 
of  events  during  the  last  twenty-four  hours. 


Ill 

Boredom  Before  Verdun 

I  AM  a  restless  spirit.  Consequently  my 
activity  in  front  of  Verdun  can  only  be 
described  as  boresome.  At  the  beginning  I 
was  in  the  trenches  at  a  spot  where  nothing 
happened.  Then  I  became  a  dispatch- 
bearer  and  hoped  to  have  some  adventures. 
But  there  I  was  mistaken.  The  fighting 
men  immediately  degraded  me  and  con- 
sidered me  a  Base-hog.  I  was  not  really  at 
the  Base  but  I  was  not  allowed  to  advance 
further  than  within  1500  yards  behind  the 
front  trenches.  There,  below  the  ground,  I 
had  a  bomb-proof,  heated  habitation.  Now 
and  then  I  had  to  go  to  the  front  trenches. 
That  meant  great  physical  exertion,  for  one 
had  to  trudge  uphill  and  downhill,  criss- 
cross, through  an  unending  number  of 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

trenches  and  mire-holes  until  at  last  one 
arrived  at  a  place  where  men  were  firing. 
After  having  paid  a  short  visit  to  the  fight- 
ing men,  my  position  seemed  to  me  a  very 
stupid  one. 

At  that  time  the  digging  business  was 
beginning.  It  had  not  yet  become  clear  to 
us  what  it  means  to  dig  approaches  and  end- 
less trenches.  Of  course,  we  knew  the 
names  of  the  various  ditches  and  holes 
through  the  lessons  which  we  had  received 
at  the  War  Academy.  However,  the  digging 
was  considered  to  be  the  business  of  the 
military  engineers.  Other  troops  were  sup- 
posed not  to  take  a  hand  in  it.  Here,  near 
Combres,  everyone  was  digging  industri- 
ously. Every  soldier  had  a  spade  and  a  pick 
and  took  all  imaginable  trouble  in  order  to 
get  as  deeply  into  the  ground  as  possible. 
It  was  very  strange  that  in  many  places 
the  French  were  only  five  yards  ahead  of  us. 
One  could  hear  them  speak  and  see  them 
smoke  cigarettes  and  now  and  then  they 
threw  us  a  piece  of  paper.  We  conversed 
with  them,  but  nevertheless,  we  tried  to 

53 


THE     RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

annoy  them  in  every  possible  way,  especially 
with  hand  grenades. 

Five  hundreds  yards  in  front  of  us  and  five 
hundred  yards  behind  the  trenches  the  dense 
forest  of  the  Cote  Lorraine  had  been  cut 
down  by  the  vast  number  of  shells  and 
bullets  which  were  fired  unceasingly.  It 
seemed  unbelievable  that  in  front  men  could 
live.  Nevertheless,  the  men  in  the  front 
trenches  were  not  in  as  bad  a  position  as  the 
men  at  the  Base. 

After  a  morning  visit  to  the  front 
trenches,  which  usually  took  place  at  the 
earliest  hours  of  the  day,  the  more  tedious 
business  began.  I  had  to  attend  to  the  tele- 
phone. 

On  days  when  I  was  off  duty  I  indulged 
in  my  favorite  pastime,  game  shooting.  The 
forest  of  La  Chaussee  gave  me  ample  oppor- 
tunities. When  going  for  a  ride  I  had  no- 
ticed that  there  were  wild  pigs  about  and 
I  tried  to  find  out  where  I  could  shoot  them 
at  night.  Beautiful  nights,  with  a  full  moon 
and  snow,  came  to  my  aid.  With  the  assis- 
tance of  my  servant  I  built  a  shelter  seat 

54 


THE     RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

in  a  tree,  at  a  spot  where  the  pigs 
passed,  and  waited  there  at  night.  Thus 
I  passed  many  a  night  sitting  on  the 
branch  of  a  tree  and  on  the  next  morn- 
ing found  that  I  had  become  an  icicle. 
However,  I  got  my  reward.  There  was  a 
sow  which  was  particularly  interesting. 
Every  night  she  swam  across  the  lake,  broke 
into  a  potato  field,  always  at  the  same  spot, 
and  then  she  swam  back  again.  Of  course 
I  very  much  wished  to  improve  my  acquaint- 
ance with  the  animal.  So  I  took  a  seat 
on  the  other  shore  of  the  lake.  In  accord- 
ance with  our  previous  arrangement,  Auntie 
Pig  appeared  at  midnight  for  her  supper.  I 
shot  her  while  she  was  still  swimming  and 
she  would  have  been  drowned  had  I  not 
succeeded  at  the  last  moment  in  seizing  her 
by  the  leg. 

At  another  time,  I  was  riding  with  my 
servant  along  a  narrow  path.  Suddenly  I 
saw  several  wild  pigs  crossing  it.  Immedi- 
ately I  jumped  from  the  horse,  grasped  my 
servant's  carbine  and  rushed  several  hundred 
yards  ahead.  At  the  end  of  the  procession 

55 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

came  a  mighty  boar.  I  had  never  yet  seen 
such  a  beast  and  was  surprised  at  its  gigantic 
size.  Now  it  ornaments  my  room  and  re- 
minds me  of  my  encounter. 

In  this  manner  I  passed  several  months 
when,  one  fine  day,  our  division  became  busy. 
We  intended  a  small  attack.  I  was  de- 
lighted, for  now  at  last  I  should  be  able  to 
do  something  as  a  connecting  link!  But 
there  came  another  disappointment!  I  was 
given  quite  a  different  job  and  now  I  had 
enough  of  it.  I  sent  a  letter  to  my  Com- 
manding General  and  evil  tongues  report 
that  I  told  him:  "My  dear  Excellency!  I 
have  not  gone  to  war  in  order  to  collect 
cheese  and  eggs,  but  for  another  purpose." 
At  first,  the  people  above  wanted  to  snarl 
at  me.  But  then  they  fulfilled  my  wish. 
Thus  I  joined  the  Flying  Service  at  the  end 
of  May,  1915.  My  greatest  wish  was  ful- 
filled. 


IV 
In  the  Air 

next  morning  at  seven  o'clock 
I  was  to  fly  for  the  first  time  as  an 
observer! — I  was  naturally  very  excited,  fcr 
I  had  no  idea  what  it  would  be  like.  Every- 
one whom  I  had  asked  about  his  feelings 
told  me  a  different  tale.  The  night  before, 
I  went  to  bed  earlier  than  usual  in  order  to 
be  thoroughly  refreshed  the  next  morning. 
We  drove  over  to  the  flying  ground,  and  I  got 
into  a  flying  machine  for  the  first  time.  The 
draught  from  the  propeller  was  a  beastly 
nuisance.  I  found  it  quite  impossible  to  make 
myself  understood  by  the  pilot.  Everything 
was  carried  away  by  the  wind.  If  I  took  up 
a  piece  of  paper  it  disappeared.  My  safety 
helmet  slid  off.  My  muffler  dropped  off. 
My  jacket  was  not  sufficiently  buttoned.  In 

57 


THE     RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

short,  I  felt  very  uncomfortable.  Before  I 
knew  what  was  happening,  the  pilot  went 
ahead  at  full  speed  and  the  machine  started 
rolling.  We  went  faster  and  faster.  I 
clutched  the  sides  of  the  car.  Suddenly,  the 
shaking  was  over,  the  machine  was  in  the 
air  and  the  earth  dropped  away  from  under 
me. 

I  had  been  told  the  name  of  the  place  to 
which  we  were  to  fly.  I  was  to  direct  my 
pilot.  At  first  we  flew  right  ahead,  then  my 
pilot  turned  to  the  right,  then  to  the  left,  but 
I  had  lost  all  sense  of  direction  above  our 
own  aerodrome.  I  had  not  the  slightest 
notion  where  I  was!  I  began  very  cau- 
tiously to  look  over  the  side  at  the  country. 
The  men  looked  ridiculously  small.  The 
houses  seemed  to  come  out  of.  a  child's  toy 
box.  Everything  seemed  pretty.  Cologne 
was  in  the  background.  The  cathedral 
looked  like  a  a  little  toy.  It  was  a  glorious 
feeling  to  be  so  high  above  the  earth,  to  be 
master  of  the  air.  I  didn't  care  a  bit  where 
I  was  and  I  felt  extremely  sad  when  my 
pilot  thought  it  was  time  to  go  down  again. 

58 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

I  should  have  liked  best  to  start  immedi- 
ately on  another  flight.  I  have  never  had 
any  trouble  in  the  air  such  as  vertigo.  The 
celebrated  American  swings  are  to  me  dis- 
gusting. One  does  not  feel  secure  in  them, 
but  in  a  flying  machine  one  possesses  a 
feeling  of  complete  security.  One  sits  in 
an  aeroplane  as  in  an  easy  chair.  Vertigo  is 
impossible.  No  man  exists  who  has  been 
turned  giddy  by  flying.  At  the  same  time, 
flying  affects  one's  nerves.  When  one  races 
full  speed  through  the  air,  and  particularly 
when  one  goes  down  again,  when  the  aero- 
plane suddenly  dips,  when  the  engine  stops 
running,  and  when  the  tremendous  noise  is 
followed  by  an  equally  tremendous  silence, 
then  I  would  frantically  clutch  the  sides  and 
think  that  I  was  sure  to  fall  to  the  ground. 
However,  everything  happened  in  such  a 
matter-of-fact  and  natural  way,  and  the 
landing,  when  we  again  touched  terra  firma 
was  so  simple,  that  I  could  not  have  such  a 
feeling  as  fear.  I  was  full  of  enthusiasm 
and  should  have  liked  to  remain  in  an  aero- 
plane all  day  long.  I  counted  the  hours  to 

59 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

the  time  when  we  should  start  out  again. 
As  an  Observer  zvith  Mackdnsen 

ON  the  10th  of  June,  1915-  I  came  to 
Grossenhain.  Thence  I  was  to  be  sent 
to  the  front.  I  was  anxious  to  go  forward 
as  quickly  as  possible.  I  feared  that  I  might 
come  too  late,  that  the  world-war  might  he 
over.  I  should  have  had  to  spend  three 
months  to  become  a  pilot.  By  the  time  the 
three  months  had  gone  by,  peace  might  have 
been  concluded.  Therefore,  it  never  occurred 
to  me  to  become  a  pilot.  I  imagined  that, 
owing  to  my  training  as  a  cavalryman,  I 
might  do  well  as  an  observer.  I  was  very 
happy  when,  after  a  fortnight's  flying  experi- 
ence, I  was  sent  out,  especially  as  I  was 
sent  to  the  only  spot  where  there  was  still 
a  chance  of  a  war  of  movement.  I  was  sent 
to  Russia. 

Mackensen  was  advancing  gloriously.  He 
had  broken  through  the  Russian  position  at 
Gorlice  and  I  joined  his  army  when  we  were 
taking  Rawa  Ruska.  I  spent  a  day  at  the 
aviation  base  and  then  I  was  sent  to  the 

60 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

celebrated  69th  Squadron.  Being  quite  a  be- 
ginner I  felt  very  foolish.  My  pilot  was  a 
big  gun,  First  Lieutenant  Zeumer.  He  is 
now  a  cripple.  Of  the  other  men  of  the  Sec- 
tion, I  am  the  only  survivor. 

Now  came  my  most  beautiful  time.  Life 
in  the  Flying  Corps  is  very  much  like  life 
in  the  cavalry.  Every  day,  morning  and 
afternoon,  I  had  to  fly  and  to  reconnoiter, 
and  I  have  brought  back  valuable  informa- 
tion many  a  time. 

With  Hoick  in  Russia.     (Summer,  1915) 

r\URING  June,  July  and  August,  1915,  I 
*~*  remained  with  the  Flying  Squadron 
which  participated  in  Mackensen's  advance 
from  Gorlice  to  Brest-Litovsk.  I  had  joined 
it  as  quite  a  juvenile  observer  and  had  not 
the  slightest  idea  of  anything. 

As  a  cavalryman  my  business  had  con- 
sisted in  reconnoitering.  So  the  Aeroplane 
Service  as  an  observer  was  in  my  line  and 
it  amused  me  vastly  to  take  part  in  the 
gigantic  reconnoitering  flights  which  we  un- 
dertook nearly  every  day. 

61 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

For  an  observer  it  is  important  to  find  a 
pilot  with  a  strong  character.  One  fine  day 
we  were  told,  "Count  Hoick  will  join  us." 
Immediately  I  thought,  'That  is  the  man  I 
want." 

Hoick  made  his  appearance,  not  as  one 
would  imagine,  in  a  60  h.  p.  Mercedes 
or  in  a  first-class  sleeping  car.  He  came  on 
foot.  After  traveling  by  railway  for  days 
and  days  he  had  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of 
Jaroslav.  Here  he  got  out  of  the  train  for 
there  was  once  more  an  unending  stoppage. 
He  told  his  servant  to  travel  on  with  the 
luggage  while  he  would  go  on  foot.  He 
marched  along  and  after  an  hour's  walking 
looked  back,  but  the  train  did  not  follow 
him.  So  he  walked  and  walked  and  walked 
without  being  overtaken  by  the  train  until, 
after  a  thirty-mile  walk,  he  arrived  in  Rawa 
Ruska,  his  objective.  Twenty-four  hours 
later  his  orderly  appeared  with  the  luggage. 
His  thirty-mile  walk  proved  no  difficulty  to 
that  sportsman.  His  body  was  so  well 
trained  that  he  did  not  feel  the  tramp  he  had 
undertaken. 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Count  Hoick  was  not  only  a  sportsman  on 
land.  Flying-  also  was  to  him  a  sport  which 
gave  him  the  greatest  pleasure.  He  was 
a  pilot  of  rare  talent  and  particularity,  and 
that  is,  after  all,  the  principal  thing.  He  tow- 
ered head  and  shoulders  above  the  enemy. 

We  went  on  many  a  beautiful  reconnoiter- 
ing  flight — I  do  no't  know  how  faf — into 
Russia.  Although  Hoick  was  so  young  I 
had  never  a  feeling  of  insecurity  with  him. 
On  the  contrary  he  was  always  a  support  to 
me  in  critical  moments.  When  I  looked 
around  and  saw  his  determined  face  I  had 
always  twice  as  much  courage  as  I  had  had 
before. 

My  last  flight  with  him  nearly  led  to 
trouble.  We  had  not  had  definite  orders  to 
fly.  The  glorious  thing  in  the  flying  service 
is  that  one  feels  that  one  is  a  perfectly  free 
man  and  one's  own  master  as  soon  as  one 
is  up  in  the  air. 

We  had  to  change  our  flying  base  and  we 
were  not  quite  certain  in  which  meadow  we 
were  to  land.  In  order  not  to  expose  our 
machine  to  too  much  risk  in  landing  we  flew 

63 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

in  the  direction  of  Brest-Litovsk.  The  Rus- 
sians were  retiring  everywhere.  The  whole 
countryside  was  burning.  It  was  a  terribly 
beautiful  picture.  We  intended  to  ascertain 
the  direction  of  the  enemy  columns,  and  in 
doing  so  flew  over  the  burning  town  of 
Wicznice.  A  gigantic  smoke  cloud,  which 
went  up  to  about  6,000  feet,  prevented  us 
continuing  our  flight  because  we  flew  at  an 
altitude  of  only  4,500  feet  in  order  to  see 
better.  For  a  moment  Hoick  reflected.  I 
asked  him  what  he  intended  to  do  and  ad- 
vised him  to  fly  around  the  smoke  cloud 
which  would  have  involved  a  round-about 
way  of  five  minutes.  Hoick  did  not  intend  to 
do  this.  On  the  contrary.  The  greater  the 
danger  was  the  more  the  thing  attracted  him. 
Therefore  straight  through!  I  enjoyed  it, 
too,  to  be  together  with  such  a  daring  fel- 
low. Our  venturesomeness  nearly  cost  us 
dear.  As  soon  as  the  tail-end  of  the  machine 
had  disappeared  in  the  smoke  the  aeroplane 
began  to  reel.  I  could  not  see  a  thing  for  the 
smoke  made  my  eyes  water.  The  air  was 
much  warmer  and  beneath  me  I  saw  nothing 

64 


o 

I 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 


but  a  huge  sea  of  fire.  Suddenly  the  ma- 
chine lost  its  balance  and  fell,  turning  round 
and  round.  I  managed  to  grasp  a  stay  and 
hung  on  to  it.  Otherwise  I  should  have  been 
thrown  out  of  the  machine.  The  first  thing 
I  did  was  to  look  at  Hoick  and  immediately 
I  regained  my  courage  for  his  face  showed 
an  iron  confidence.  The  only  thought  which 
I  had  was :  "It  is  stupid,  after  all,  to  die  so 
unnecessarily  a  hero's  death." 

Later  on,  I  asked  Hoick  what  had  been 
his  thoughts  at  the  moment.  He  told  me  he 
had  never  experienced  so  unpleasant  a  feel- 
ing. 

We  fell  down  to  an  altitude  of  1500  feet 
above  the  burning  town.  Either  through  the 
skill  of  my  pilot  or  by  a  Higher  Will,  per- 
haps by  both,  we  suddenly  dropped  out  of 
the  smoke  cloud.  Our  good  Albatros  found 
itself  again  and  once  more  flew  straight 
ahead  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

We  had  now  had  enough  of  it  and  instead 
of  going  to  a  new  base  intended  to  return 
to  our  old  quarter  as  quickly  as  possible. 
After  all,  we  were  still  above  the  Russians 

65 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

and  only  at  an  altitude  of  1500  feet.  Five 
minutes  later  I  heard  Hoick,  behind  me,  ex- 
claiming: "The  motor  is  giving  out." 

I  must  add  that  Hoick  had  not  as  much 
knowledge  of  motors  as  he  had  of  horse- 
flesh and  I  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of 
mechanics.  The  only  thing  which  I  knew 
was  that  we  should  have  to  land  among  the 
Russians  if  the  motor  went  on  strike.  So 
one  peril  had  followed  the  other. 

I  convinced  myself  that  the  Russians  be- 
neath us  were  still  marching  with  energy. 
I  could  see  them  quite  clearly  from  our  low 
altitude.  Besides  it  was  not  necessary  to 
look,  for  the  Russians  shot  at  us  with  ma- 
chine-guns with  the  utmost  diligence.  The 
firing  sounded  like  chestnuts  roasting  near 
a  fire. 

Presently  the  motor  stopped  running  alto- 
gether, for  it  had  been  hit.  So  we  went 
lower  and  lower.  We  just  managed  to 
glide  over  a  forest  and  landed  at  last  in  an 
abandoned  artillery  position  which,  the  eve- 
ning before,  had  still  been  occupied  by  Rus- 
sians, as  I  had  reported. 

66 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

I  told  Hoick  my  impressions.  We  jumped 
out  of  our  box  and  tried  to  rush  into  the 
forest  nearby,  where  we  might  have  de- 
fended ourselves.  I  had  with  me  a  pistol 
and  six  cartridges.  Hoick  had  nothing. 

When  we  had  reached  the  wood  we 
stopped  and  I  saw  with  my  glasses  that  a 
soldier  was  running  towards  our  aeroplane. 
I  was  horrified  to  see  that  he  wore  not  a 
spiked  helmet  but  a  cap.  So  I  felt  sure  that 
it  was  a  Russian.  When  the  man  came 
nearer  Hoick  shouted  with  joy,  for  he  was 
a  Grenadier  of  the  Prussian  Guards. 

Our  troops  had  once  more  stormed  the 
position  at  the  break  of  day  and  had  broken 
through  into  the  enemy  batteries. 

On  that  occasion  Hoick  lost  his  little  fa- 
vorite, his  doggie.  He  took  the  little  animal 
with  him  in  every  flight.  The  dog  would  lie 
always  quietly  on  Hoick's  fur  in  the  fuselage. 
He  was  still  with  us  when  we  were  in  the 
forest.  Soon  after,  when  we  had  talked 
with  the  Guardsman,  German  troops  passed 
us.  They  were  the  staffs  of  the  Guards  and 
Prince  Eitel  Friedrich  with  his  Adjutants 

67 


THE    RED     BATTLE- FLYER 

and  his  Orderly  Officers.  The  Prince  sup- 
plied us  with  horses  so  that  we  two  cavalry- 
men were  sitting  once  more  on  oat-driven 
motors.  Unfortunately  doggie  was  lost 
while  we  were  riding.  Probably  he  followed 
other  troops  by  mistake. 

Later  in  the  evening  we  arrived  in  our 
old  flying  base  on  a  cart.  The  machine  was 
smashed. 

Russia — Ostend     (From     the     Two- 
Seater  to  the  Twin-Engmed  Fighter) 

THHE  German  enterprise  in  Russia  came 
*•  gradually  to  a  stop  and  suddenly  I  was 
transferred  to  a  large  battle-plane  at  Ostend 
on  the  twenty-first  of  August,  1915.  There 
I  met  an  old  acquaintance,  friend  Zeumer. 
Besides  I  was  attracted  by  the  tempting 
name  "Large  Battle-plane/'* 

I  had  a  very  good  time  during  this  part 
of  my  service.  I  saw  little  of  the  war  but  my 
experiences  were  invaluable  to  me,  for  I 


•The  Grossfleugzeug,  or  "G"  class  of  German  aeroplane,  later 
given  up  as  a  flying  machine  owing  to  its  slow  speed  and  clumsiness 
in  manoeuvre  and  used  in  its  later  developments  for  night-bombing 
only. 

68 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

passed  my  apprenticeship  as  a  battle-flier. 
We  flew  a  great  deal,  we  had  rarely  a  fight 
in  the  air  and  we  had  no  successes.  We  had 
siezed  a  hotel  on  the  Ostend  shore,  and 
there  we  bathed  every  afternoon.  Unfor- 
tunately the  only  frequenters  of  the  water- 
ing-place were  soldiers.  Wrapped  up  in  our 
many-colored  bathing  gowns  we  sat  on  the 
terraces  of  Ostend  and  drank  our  coffee  in 
the  afternoon. 

One  fine  day  we  were  sitting  as  usual  on 
the  shore  drinking  coffee.  Suddenly  we 
heard  bugles.  We  were  told  that  an  English 
squadron  was  approaching.  Of  course  we 
did  not  allow  ourselves  to  be  alarmed  and 
to  be  disturbed,  but  continued  drinking  our 
coffee.  Suddenly  somebody  called  out: 
"There  they  are!"  Indeed  we  could  see  on 
the  horizon,  though  not  very  distinctly,  some 
smoking  funnels  and  later  on  could  make 
out  ships.  Immediately  we  fetched  our  tele- 
scopes and  observed  them.  There  was  in- 
deed quite  an  imposing  number  of  vessels. 
It  was  not  quite  clear  to  us  what  they  in- 
tended to  do,  but  soon  we  were  to  know 

60 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

better.  We  went  up  to  the  roof  whence  we 
could  see  more.  Suddenly  we  heard  a  whis- 
tling in  the  air;  then  there  came  a  big  bang 
and  a  shell  hit  that  part  of  the  beach  where 
a  little  before  we  had  been  bathing.  I  have 
never  rushed  as  rapidly  into  the  hero's 
cellar  as  I  did  at  that  moment.  The  English 
squadron  shot  perhaps  three  or  four  times 
at  us  and  then  it  began  bombarding  the 
harbor  and  railway  station.  Of  course  they 
hit  nothing  but  they  gave  a  terrible  fright 
to  the  Belgians.  One  shell  fell  right  in  the 
beautiful  Palace  Hotel  on  the  shore.  That 
was  the  only  damage  that  was  done.  Hap- 
pily they  destroyed  only  English  capital,  for 
it  belonged  to  Englishmen. 

In  the  evening  we  flew  again  with  energy. 
On  one  of  our  flights  we  had  gone  very  far 
across  the  sea  with  our  battle-plane.  It  had 
two  motors  and  we  were  experimenting  with 
a  new  steering  gear  which,  we  were  told, 
would  enable  us  to  fly  in  a  straight  line  with 
only  a  single  motor  working.*  When  we 

•This  apparently  refers  to  an  auto-lock  arrangement  on  the 
rudder-bar  to  save  the  pilot  from  having  the  rudder  against  the 
engine  all  the  time. 

70 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

were  fairly  far  out  I  saw  beneath  us,  not 
on  the  water  but  below  the  surface,  a  ship. 
It  is  a  funny  thing.  If  the  sea  is  quiet,  one 
can  look  down  from  above  to  the  bottom  of 
the  sea.  Of  course  it  is  not  possible  where 
the  sea  is  twenty-five  miles  deep  but  one  can 
see  clearly  through  several  hundred  yards  of 
water.  I  had  not  made  a  mistake  in  believ- 
ing that  the  ship  was  traveling  not  on  the 
surface  but  below  the  surface.  Yet  it  seemed 
at  first  that  it  was  traveling  above  water. 
I  drew  Zeumer's  attention  to  my  discovery 
and  we  went  lower  in  order  to  see  more 
clearly.  I  am  too  little  of  a  naval  expert  to 
say  what  it  was  but  it  was  clear  to  me  that 
it  was  bound  to  be  a  submarine.  But  of 
what  nationality?  That  is  a  difficult  ques- 
tion which  in  my  opinion  can  be  solved  only 
by  a  naval  expert,  and  not  always  by  him. 
One  can  scarcely  distinguish  colors  under 
water  and  there  is  no  flag.  Besides  a 
submarine  does  not  carry  such  things.  We 
had  with  us  a  couple  of  bombs  and  I  debated 
with  myself  whether  I  should  throw  them 
or  not.  The  submarine  had  not  seen  us  for 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

it  was  partly  submerged.  We  might  have 
flown  above  it  without  danger  and  we  might 
have  waited  until  it  found  it  necessary  to 
come  to  the  surface  for  air.  Then  we  could 
have  dropped  our  eggs.  Herein  lies,  no 
doubt,  a  very  critical  point  for  our  sister 
arm. 

When  we  had  fooled  around  the  appari- 
tion beneath  us  for  quite  a  while  I  sud- 
denly noticed  that  the  water  was  gradually 
disappearing  from  our  cooling  apparatus. 
I  did  not  like  that  and  I  drew  my 
colleague's  attention  to  the  fact.  He  pulled 
a  long  face  and  hastened  to  get  home. 
However,  we  were  approximately  twelve 
miles  from  the  shore  and  they  had  to  be 
flown  over.  The  motor  began  running  more 
slowly  and  I  was  quietly  preparing  myself 
for  a  sudden  cold  immersion.  But  lo! 
and  behold!  we  got  through!  Our  giant 
apple-barge*  barged  along  with  a  single 
motor  and  the  new  steering  apparatus  and 
we  reached  the  shore  and  managed  to  land 

•A  literal  translation  of  the  German  slang,  analagous  more  or 
less  to  the  British  term  box-kite, 

72 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

in  the  harbor  without  any  special  difficulty. 
It  is  a  good  thing  to  be  lucky.  Had  we 
not  tried  the  new  steering  apparatus  on  that 
day  there  would  not  have  been  any  hope 
for  us.  We  should  certainly  have  been 
drowned. 

A  Drop  of  Blood  for  the  Fatherland 

T  HAVE  never  been  really  wounded.  At 
*  the  critical  moment  I  have  probably 
bent  my  head  or  pulled  in  my  chest.  Often 
I  have  been  surprised  that  they  did  not  hit 
me.  Once  a  bullet  went  through  both  my 
furlined  boots.  Another  time  a  bullet  went 
through  my  muffler.  Another  time  one 
went  along  my  arm  through  the  fur  and 
the  leather  jacket;  but  I  have  never  been 
touched. 

One  fine  day  we  started  with  our  large 
battle-plane  in  order  to  delight  the  English 
with  our  bombs.  We  reached  our  object. 
The  first  bomb  fell.  It  is  very  interesting 
to  ascertain  the  effect  of  a  bomb.  At  least 
one  always  likes  to  see  it  exploding.  Unfor- 
tunately my  large  battle-plane,  which  was 

73 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

well  qualified  for  carrying  bombs,  had  a 
stupid  peculiarity  which  prevented  me  from 
seeing  the  effect  of  a  bomb-throw,  for  im- 
mediately after  the  throw  the  machine  came 
between  my  eye  and  the  object  and  covered 
it  completely  with  its  planes.  This  always 
made  me  wild  because  one  does  not  like  to 
be  deprived  of  one's  amusement.  If  you 
hear  a  bang  down  below  and  see  the  delight- 
ful grayish-whitish  cloud  of  the  explosion 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  object  aimed  at, 
you  are  always  very  pleased.  Therefore  I 
waved  to  friend  Zeumer  that  he  should  bend 
a  little  to  the  side.  While  waving  to  him 
I  forgot  that  the  infamous  object  on  which  I 
was  traveling,  my  apple-barge,  had  two  pro- 
pellers which  turned  to  the  right  and  left 
of  my  observer-seat.*  I  meant  to  show  him 
where  approximately  the  bomb  had  hit  and 
bang!  my  finger  was  caught!  I  was  some- 
what surprised  when  I  discovered  that  my 

•From  this  disposition  of  the  air-screws,  and  from  the  date  of 
the  occurrence,  one  assumes  that  this  was  one  of  the  very  earliest 
twin-engined  Gothas,  of  the  type  which  the  R.  F.  C.  nicknamed 
"Wong-wong,"  because  of  the  curious  noise  made  by  the  engines  or 
air- screw*  when  they  ran  out  of  step. 

74 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

little  finger  had  been  damaged.    Zeumer  did 
not  notice  anything. 

Having  been  hit  on  the  hand  I  did  not  care 
to  throw  any  more  bombs.  I  quickly  got  rid 
of  the  lot  and  we  hurried  home.  My  love 
for  the  large  battle-plane,  which  after  all 
had  not  been  very  great,  suffered  seriously 
in  consequence  of  my  experience.  I  had  to 
sit  quiet  for  seven  days  and  was  debarred 
from  flying.  Only  my  beauty  was  slightly 
damaged,  but  after  all,  I  can  say  with  pride 
that  I  also  have  been  wounded  in  the  war. 

My  First  Fight  in  the 
Air.   (ist  Sept.,  1915) 

EUMER  and  I  were  very  anxious  to 
have  a  fight  in  the  air.  Of  course  we 
flew  our  large  battle-plane.  The  title  of 
our  barge  alone  gave  us  so  much  courage 
that  we  thought  it  impossible  for  any  oppo- 
nent to  escape  us. 

We  flew  every  day  from  five  to  six  hours 
without  ever  seeing  an  Englishman.  I  be- 
came quite  discouraged,  but  one  fine  morn- 
ing we  again  went  out  to  hunt.  Suddenly 

75 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

I  discovered  a  Farman  aeroplane  which  was 
reconnoitering  without  taking  notice  of  us. 
My  heart  beat  furiously  when  Zeumer  flew 
towards  it.  I  was  curious  to  see  what  was 
going  to  happen.  I  had  never  witnessed  a 
fight  in  the  air  and  had  about  as  vague  an 
idea  of  it  as  it  was  possible  to  have. 

Before  I  knew  what  was  happening  both 
the  Englishman  and  I  rushed  by  one  another. 
I  had  fired  four  shots  at  most  while  the 
Englishman  was  suddenly  in  our  rear  firing 
into  us  like  anything.  I  must  say  I  never 
had  any  sense  of  danger  because  I  had  no 
idea  how  the  final  result  of  such  a  fight 
would  come  about.  We  turned  and  turned 
around  one  another  until  at  last,  to  our 
great  surprise  the  Englishman  turned  away 
from  us  and  flew  off.  I  was  greatly  disap- 
pointed and  so  was  my  pilot. 

Both  of  us  were  in  very  bad  spirits  when 
we  reached  home.  He  reproached  me  for 
having  shot  badly  and  I  reproached  him  for 
not  having  enabled  me  to  shoot  well.  In 
short  our  aeroplanic  relations,  which  previ- 
ously had  been  faultless,  suffered  severely. 

76 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

We  looked  at  our  machine  and  discovered 
that  it  had  received  quite  a  respectable  num- 
ber of  hits. 

On  the  same  day  we  went  on  the  chase 
for  a  second  time  but  again  we  had  no  suc- 
cess. I  felt  very  sad.  I  had  imagined  that 
things  would  be  very  different  in  a  battle 
squadron.  I  had  always  believed  that  one 
shot  would  cause  the  enemy  to  fall,  but  soon 
I  became  convinced  that  a  flying  machine 
can  stand  a  great  deal  of  punishment.  Fi- 
nally I  felt  assured  that  I  should  never  bring 
down  a  hostile  aeroplane,  however  much 
shooting  I  did. 

We  did  not  lack  courage.  Zeumer  was  a 
wonderful  flier  and  I  was  quite  a  good  shot. 
We  stood  before  a  riddle.  We  were  not  the 
only  ones  to  be  puzzled.  Many  are  nowadays 
in  the  same  position  in  which  we  were  then. 
After  all  the  flying  business  must  really  be 
thoroughly  understood. 

In  the  Champagne  Battle 
pleasant  days  at  Ostend  were  soon 
past,  for  the  Champagne  battle  began 
and  we  flew  to  the  front  in  order  to  take 

77 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

part  in  it  in  our  large  battle-plane.  Soon 
we  discovered  that  our  packing-case*  was  a 
capacious  aeroplane  but  that  it  could  never 
be  turned  into  a  good  battle-plane. 

I  flew  once  with  Osteroth  who  had  a 
smaller  flier  than  the  apple-barge.  About 
three  miles  behind  the  front  we  encountered 
a  Farman  two-seater.  He  allowed  us  to 
approach  him  and  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  saw  an  aerial  opponent  from  quite 
close  by.  Osteroth  flew  with  great  skill 
side  by  side  with  the  enemy  so  that  I  could 
easily  fire  at  him.  Our  opponent  probably 
did  not  notice  us,  for  only  when  I  had 
trouble  with  my  gun  did  he  begin  to  shoot 
at  us.  When  I  had  exhausted  my  supply 
of  one  hundred  bullets  I  thought  I  could 
not  trust  my  eyes  when  I  suddenly 
noticed  that  my  opponent  was  going 
down  in  curious  spirals.  I  followed  him 
with  my  eyes  and  tapped  Osteroth's 
head  to  draw  his  attention.  Our  oppo- 
nent fell  and  fell  and  dropped  at  last  into 

•Still  another  example  of  slang,  indicative  of  the  clumsiness  of 
the  Grossffeugzeug  in  the  air. 

7* 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

a  large  crater.  There  he  was,  his  machine 
standing  on  its  head,  the  tail  pointing  to- 
wards the  sky.  According  to  the  map  he 
had  fallen  three  miles  behind  the  front.  We 
had  therefore  brought  him  down  on  enemy 
ground.*  Otherwise  I  should  have  one  more 
victory  to  my  credit.  I  was  very  proud  of 
my  success.  After  all,  the  chief  thing  is 
to  bring  a  fellow  down.  It  does  not  matter 
at  all  whether  one  is  credited  for  it  or  not. 

How  I  Met  Boelcke 

RIEND  Zeumer  got  a  Fokker  Mono- 
plane.  Therefore  I  had  to  sail  through 
the  world  alone.  The  Champagne  battle 
was  raging.  The  French  flying  men  were 
coming  to  the  fore.  We  were  to  be  com- 
bined in  a  battle  squadron  and  took  train 
on  the  first  of  October,  1915. 

In  the  dining  car,  at  the  table  next  to  me, 
was  sitting  a  young  and  insignificant-looking 
lieutenant.  There  was  no  reason  to  take 
any  note  of  him  except  for  the  fact  that 

•It  was  also  the  British  custom  to  ignore— as  part  of  the  score- 
all  machines  brought  down  in  enemy  territory.  Later  it  became 
permissible  to  count  such  victims  if  their  destruction  wa»  verified  by 
independent  witnesses. 

79 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

he  was  the  only  man  who  had  succeeded  in 
shooting  down  a  hostile  flying  man  not  once 
but  four  times.  His  name  had  been  men- 
tioned in  the  dispatches.  I  thought  a  great 
deal  of  him  because  of  his  experience.  Al- 
though I  had  taken  the  greatest  trouble,  I 
had  not  brought  an  enemy  down  up  to  that 
time.  At  least  I  had  not  been  credited  with 
a  success. 

I  would  have  liked  so  much  to  find  out 
how  Lieutenant  Boelcke  managed  his  busi- 
ness. So  I  asked  him :  "Tell  me,  how  do  you 
manage  it?"  He  seemed  very  amused  and 
laughed,  although  I  had  asked  him  quite 
seriously.  Then  he  replied:  "Well  it  is  quite 
simple.  I  fly  close  to  my  man,  aim  well  and 
then  of  course  he  falls  down."  I  shook  my 
head  and  told  him  that  I  did  the  same  thing 
but  my  opponents  unfortunately  did  not 
come  down.  The  difference  between  him 
and  I  was  that  he  flew  a  Fokker  and  I  a 
large  battle-plane. 

I  took  great  trouble  to  get  more  closely 
acquainted  with  that  nice  modest  fellow 
whom  I  badly  wanted  to  teach  me  his  busi- 

80 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

ness.  We  often  played  cards  together,  went 
for  walks  and  I  asked  him  questions.  At 
last  I  formed  a  resolution  that  I  also  would 
learn  to  fly  a  Fokker.  Perhaps  then  my 
chances  would  improve. 

My  whole  aim  and  ambition  became  now 
concentrated  upon  learning  how  to  manipu- 
late the  sticks  myself.  Hitherto  I  had  been 
nothing  but  an  observer.  Happily  I  soon 
found  an  opportunity  to  learn  piloting  on  an 
old  machine  in  the  Champagne.  I  threw 
myself  into  the  work  with  body  and  soul  and 
after  twenty-five  training  flights  I  stood 
before  the  examination  in  flying  alone. 


My  First  Solo-Flight.  (10th  October,  1915) 

HPH'ERE  are  some  moments  in  one's  life 
*•  which  tickle  one's  nerves  particularly 
and  the  first  solo-flight  is  among  them. 

One  fine  evening  my  teacher,  Zeumer,  told 
me:  "Now  go  and  fly  by  yourself."  I  must 
say  I  felt  like  replying  "I  am  afraid."  But 
this  is  a  word  which  should  never  be  used 
by  a  man  who  defends  his  country.  There- 
fore, whether  I  liked  it  or  not,  I  had  to  make 
the  best  of  it  and  get  into  my  machine. 

Zeumer  explained  to  me  once  more  every 
movement  in  theory.  I  scarcely  listened  to 
his  explanations  for  I  was  firmly  convinced 
that  I  should  forget  half  of  what  he  was 
telling  me. 

I  started  the  machine.  The  aeroplane 
went  at  the  prescribed  speed  and  I  could  not 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

help  noticing  that  I  was  actually  flying. 
After  all  I  did  not  feel  timorous  but  rather 
elated.  I  did  not  care  for  anything.  I 
should  not  have  been  frightened  no  matter 
what  happened.  With  contempt  of  death  I 
made  a  large  curve  to  the  left,  stopped  the 
machine  near  a  tree,  exactly  where  I  had 
been  ordered  to,  and  looked  forward  to  see 
what  would  happen.  Now  came  the  most 
difficult  thing,  the  landing.  I  remembered 
exactly  what  movements  I  had  to  make.  I 
acted  mechanically  and  the  machine  moved 
quite  differently  from  what  I  had  expected. 
I  lost  my  balance,  made  some  wrong  move- 
ments, stood  on  my  head  and  I  succeeded  in 
converting  my  aeroplane  into  a  battered 
school  'bus.  I  was  very  sad,  looked  at  the 
damage  which  I  had  done  to  the  machine, 
which  after  all  was  not  very  great,  and  had 
to  suffer  from  other  people's  jokes. 

Two  days  later  I  went  with  passion  at 
the  flying  and  suddenly  I  could  handle  the 
apparatus. 

A  fortnight  later  I  had  to  take  my  first 
examination.  Herr  von  T was  my 

83 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

examiner.  I  described  the  figure  eight  sev- 
eral times,  exactly  as  I  had  been  told  to  do, 
landed  several  times  with  success,  in  accord- 
ance with  orders  received  and  felt  very  proud 
of  my  achievements.  However,  to  my  great 
surprise  I  was  told  that  I  had  not  passed. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  try 
once  more  to  pass  the  initial  examination. 

My  Training  Time  at  Doberits 
T  N  order  to  pass  my  examinations  I  had 
•*•  to  go  to  Berlin.  I  made  use  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  go  to  Berlin  as  observer  in  a  giant 
plane.*  I  was  ordered  to  go  by  aeroplane  to 
Doberitz  near  Berlin  on  the  fifteenth  of  No- 
vember, 1915.  In  the  beginning  I  took  a 
great  interest  in  the  giant-plane.  But 
funnily  enough  the  gigantic  machine  made 
it  clear  to  me  that  only  the  smallest  aero- 
plane would  be  of  any  use  for  me  in  battle. 
A  big  aerial  barge  is  too  clumsy  for  fighting. 
Agility  is  needed  and,  after  all,  fighting  is 
my  business. 

•Possibly  a  very  early  example  of  the  Riesenfleugzeug  type, 
which  is  the  next  biggest  thing  to  the  Grossfleugzeug  type,  which 
includes  the  Gothas,  A.  E.  G.'s,  Friedrichshafens,  and  other  of  the 
twin-engined  types. 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

The  difference  between  a  large  battle- 
plane and  a  giant-plane  is  that  a  giant-plane 
is  considerably  larger  than  a  large  battle- 
plane and  that  it  is  more  suitable  for  use  as 
a  bomb-carrier  than  as  a  fighter. 

I  went  through  my  examinations  in  Do- 
beritz  together  with  a  dear  fellow,  First 
Lieutenant  von  Lyncker.  We  got  on  very 
well  with  one  another,  had  the  same  inclina- 
tions and  the  same  ideas  as  to  our  future 
activity.  Our  aim  was  to  fly  Fokkers  and 
to  be  included  in  a  battle  squadron  on  the 
Western  front.  A  year  later  we  succeeded 
in  working  together  for  a  short  time.  A 
deadly  bullet  hit  my  dear  friend  when  bring- 
ing down  his  third  aeroplane. 

We  passed  many  merry  hours  in  Doberitz. 
One  of  the  things  which  we  had  to  do  was 
to  land  in  strange  quarters.  I  used  the  op- 
portunity to  combine  the  necessary  with  the 
agreeable.  My  favorable  landing  place  out- 
side of  our  aerodrome  was  the  Buchow 
Estate  where  I  was  well  known.  I  was 
there  invited  to  shoot  wild  pigs.  The  matter 
could  be  combined  only  with  difficulty  with 

85 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

the  service,  for  on  fine  evenings  I  wished 
both  to  fly  and  to  shoot  pigs.  So  I  arranged 
for  a  place  of  landing  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Buchow  whence  I  could  easily  reach  my 
friends. 

I  took  with  me  a  second  pilot,  who  served 
as  an  observer,  and  sent  him  back  in  the 
evening.  During  the  night  I  shot  pigs  and 
on  the  next  morning  was  fetched  by  my 
pilot. 

If  I  had  not  been  fetched  with  the  aero- 
plane I  should  have  been  in  a  hole  for  I 
should  have  had  to  march  on  foot  a  dis- 
tance of  about  six  miles.  So  I  required  a 
man  who  would  fetch  me  in  any  weather.  It 
is  not  easy  to  find  a  man  who  will  fetch  you 
under  any  circumstances. 

Once,  when  I  had  passed  the  night  trying 
to  shoot  pigs,  a  tremendous  snowfall  set  in. 
One  could  not  see  fifty  yards  ahead.  My 
pilot  was  to  fetch  me  at  eight  sharp.  I 
hoped  that  for  once  he  would  not  come.  But 
suddenly  I  heard  a  humming  noise — one 
could  not  see  a  thing — and  five  minutes  later 
my  beloved  bird  was  squatting  before  me  on 

86 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

__»_ _____________________________ 

the   ground.     Unfortunately    some   of   his 
bones  had  got  bent. 

/  Become  a  Pilot 

ON  Christmas  Day,  1915,  I  passed  my 
third  examination.  In  connection  with 
it  I  flew  to  Schwerin,  where  the  Fokker 
works  are  situated,  and  had  a  look  at  them. 
As  observer  I  took  with  me  my  mechanic, 
and  from  Schwerin  I  flew  with  him  to  Bres- 
lau,  from  Breslau  to  Schweidnitz,  from 
thence  to  Luben  and  then  returned  to  Berlin. 
During  my  tour  I  landed  in  lots  of  different 
places  in  between,  visiting  relatives  and 
friends.  Being  a  trained  observer,  I  did  not 
find  it  difficult  to  find  my  way. 

In  March,  1916, 1  joined  the  Second  Battle 
Squadron  before  Verdun  and  learned  air- 
fighting  as  a  pilot.  I  learned  how  to  handle 
a  fighting  aeroplane.  I  flew  then  a  two- 
seater. 

In  the  official  communique  of  the'  twenty- 
sixth  of  April,  1916,  I  am  referred  to  for  the 
first  time,  although  my  name  is  not  men- 
tioned. Only  my  deeds  appear  in  it.  I  had 

87 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

had  built  into  my  machine  a  machine  gun, 
which  I  had  arranged  very  much  in  the  way 
in  which  it  is  done  in  the  Nieuport  ma- 
chines.* I  was  very  proud  of  my  idea. 
People  laughed  at  the  way  I  had  fitted  it  up 
because  the  whole  thing  looked  very  primi- 
tive. Of  course  I  swore  by  my  new  arrange- 
ment and  very  soon  I  had  an  opportunity  of 
ascertaining  its  practical  value. 

I  encountered  a  hostile  Nieuport  machine 
which  was  apparently  guided  by  a  man  who 
also  was  a  beginner,  for  he  acted  extremely 
foolishly.  When  I  flew  towards  him  he  ran 
away.  Apparently  he  had  trouble  with  his 
gun.  I  had  no  idea  of  fighting  him  but 
thought:  "What  will  happen  if  I  now  start 
shooting?"  I  flew  after  him,  approached 
him  as  closely  as  possible  and  then  began 
firing  a  short  series  of  well-aimed  shots  with 
my  machine  gun.  The  Nieuport  reared  up 
in  the  air  and  turned  over  and  over. 


*It  is  not  clear  whether  this  refers  to  a  gun  pointing  upwards, 
as  guns  at  that  time  were  commonly  fitted  on  the  upper  plane  of  the 
Nieuport,  or  whether  the  gun  fired  through  the  air- screw.  Prob- 
ably the  latter  fitting  is  meant.  Later  on  one  reads  that  he  was 
then  flying  an  Albatros,  so  it  may  have  been  a  top  gun. 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

At  first  both  my  observer  and  I  believed 
that  this  was  one  of  the  numerous  tricks 
which  French  fliers  habitually  indulge  in. 
However,  his  tricks  did  not  cease.  Turning 
over  and  over,  the  machine  went  lower  and 
lower.  At  last  my  observer  patted  me  on 
the  head  and  called  out  to  me :  "I  congratu- 
late you.  He  is  falling."  As  a  matter  of 
fact  he  fell  into  a  forest  behind  Fort  Douau- 
mont  and  disappeared  among  the  trees..  It 
became  clear  to  me  that  I  had  shot  him 
down,  but  on  the  other  side  of  the  Front. 
I  flew  home  and  reported  merely :  "I  had  an 
aerial  fight  and  have  shot  down  a  Nieuport." 
The  next  day  I  read  of  my  action  in  the  offi- 
cial communique*.  Of  course  I  was  very 
proud  of  my  success,  but  that  Nieuport  does 
not  figure  among  the  fifty-two  aeroplanes 
which  I  have  brought  down.* 

The  communique  of  the  26th  of  April 
stated:  "Two  hostile  flying  machines  have 
been  shot  down  by  aerial  fighting  above 
Fleury,  south  and  west  of  Douaumont." 

•Note.— This  book  was  written  after  Captain  von  Richthofen 
had  brought  down  fifty-two  aeroplanes.  At  the  time  of  hi«  death 
h«  was  officially  credited  with  eighty  victories. 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

Hoick's  Death,  (soth  of  April,  xp/d) 
A  S  a  young  pilot  I  once  flew  over  Fort 
**  Douaumont  at  a  moment  when  it  was 
exposed  to  a  violent  drum-fire.  I  noticed 
that  a  German  Fokker  was  attacking  three 
Caudron  machines.  It  was  my  misfortune 
that  a  strong  west  wind  was  blowing.  That 
was  not  favorable  to  me.  The  Fokker  was 
driven  over  the  town  of  Verdun  in  the  course 
of  the  fight.  I  drew  the  attention  of  my 
observer  to  the  struggle.  He  thought  that 
the  German  fighting  man  must  be  a  very 
smart  fellow.  We  wondered  whether  it 
could  be  Boelcke  and  intended  to  inquire 
when  we  came  down.  Suddenly,  I  saw  to 
my  horror  that  the  German  machine,  which 
previously  had  attacked,  had  fallen  back 
upon  the  defensive.  The  strength  of  the 
French  fighting  men  had  been  increased  to 
at  least  ten  and  their  combined  assaults 
forced  the  German  machine  to  go  lower  and 
lower. 

I  could  not  fly  to  the  German's  aid.  I  was 
too  far  away  from  the  battle.  Besides,  my 
heavy  machine  could  not  overcome  the 

90 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

strong  wind  against  me.  The  Fokker  fought 
with  despair.  His  opponents  had  rushed  him 
down  to  an  altitude  of  only  about  eighteen 
hundred  feet.  Suddenly,  he  was  once  more 
attacked  by  his  opponents  and  he  disap- 
peared, plunging  into  a  small  cloud.  I 
breathed  more  easily,  for  in  my  opinion  the 
cloud  had  saved  him. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  aerodrome,  I  re- 
ported what  I  had  seen  and  was  told  that 
the  Fokker  man  was  Count  Hoick,  my  old 
comrade  in  the  Eastern  Theater  of  war. 

Count  Hoick  had  dropped  straight  down, 
shot  through  the  head.  His  death  deeply 
affected  me  for  he  was  my  model.  I  tried  to 
imitate  his  energy  and  he  was  a  man  among 
men  also  as  a  character. 


VI 


I  Fly  In  a  Thunderstorm 

activity  before  Verdun  was  dis- 
turbed  in  the  summer  of  1916  by  fre- 
quent thunderstorms.  Nothing  is  more  disa- 
greeable for  flying  men  than  to  have  to  go 
through  a  thunderstorm.  In  the  Battle  of 
the  Somme  a  whole  English  flying  squadron 
came  down  behind  our  lines  and  became 
prisoners  of  war  because  they  had  been  sur- 
prised by  a  thunderstorm.* 

I  had  never  yet  made  an  attempt  to  get 
through  thunder  clouds  but  I  could  not  sup- 
press my  desire  to  make  the  experiment. 
During  the  whole  day  thunder  was  in  the 

'Probably  this  means  a  patrol  of  one  or  two  flights— of  four 
machines  each.  One  does  not  recall  a  whole  squadron  disappear- 
ing at  once,  though  one  or  two  squadrons  had  their  whole  personnel 
renewed  one  or  two  at  a  time  in  the  course  of  a  month  or  so. 

92 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

air.  From  my  base  at  Mont  I  had  flown  over 
to  the  fortress  of  Metz,  nearby,  in  order  to 
look  after  various  things.  During  my  return 
journey  I  had  an  adventure. 

I  was  at  the  aerodrome  of  Metz  and  in- 
tended to  return  to  my  own  quarters.  When 
I  pulled  my  machine  out  of  the  hangar  the 
first  signs  of  an  approaching  thunderstorm 
became  noticeable.  Clouds  which  looked 
like  a  gigantic  pitch-black  wall  approached 
from  the  north.  Old  experienced  pilots 
urged  me  not  to  fly.  However,  I  had  prom- 
ised to  return  and  I  should  have  considered 
myself  a  coward  if  I  had  failed  to  come  back 
because  of  a  silly  thunderstorm.  Therefore 
I  meant  to  try. 

When  I  started  the  rain  began  falling.  I 
had  to  throw  away  my  goggles,  otherwise 
I  should  not  have  seen  anything.  The 
trouble  was  that  I  had  to  travel  over  the 
mountains  of  the  Moselle  where  the  thun- 
derstorm was  just  raging.  I  said  to  myself 
that  probably  I  should  be  lucky  and  get 
through  and  rapidly  approached  the  black 
cloud  which  reached  down  to  the  earth.  I 

93 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

flew  at  the  lowest  possible  altitude.  I  was 
compelled  absolutely  to  leap  over  houses  and 
trees  with  my  machine.  Very  soon  I  knew 
no  longer  where  I  was.  The  gale  seized  my 
machine  as  if  it  were  a  piece  of  paper  and 
drove  it  along.  My  heart  sank  within  me. 
I  could  not  land  among  the  hills.  I  was  com- 
pelled to  go  on. 

I  was  surrounded  by  an  inky  blackness. 
Beneath  me  the  trees  bent  down  in  the  gale. 
Suddenly  I  saw  right  in  front  of  me  a 
wooded  height.  I  could  not  avoid  it.  My 
Albatros  managed  to  take  it.  I  was  able 
to  fly  only  in  a  straight  line.  Therefore  I 
had  to  take  every  obstacle  that  I  encoun- 
tered. My  flight  became  a  jumping  compe- 
tition purely  and  simply.  I  had  to  jump  over 
trees,  villages,  spires  and  steeples,  for  I  had 
to  keep  within  a  few  yards  of  the  ground, 
otherwise  I  should  have  seen  nothing  at  all. 
The  lightning  was  playing  around  me.  At 
that  time  I  did  not  yet  know  that  lightning 
cannot  touch  flying  machines.  I  felt  cer- 
tain of  my  death  for  it  seemed  to  me  inevi- 
table that  the  gale  would  throw  me  at  any 

94 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

moment  into  a  village  or  a  forest.  Had  the 
motor  stopped  working  I  should  have  been 
done  for. 

Suddenly  I  saw  that  on  the  horizon  the 
darkness  had  become  less  thick.  Over  there 
the  thunderstorm  had  passed.  I  would  be 
saved  if  I  were  able  to  get  so  far.  Concen- 
trating all  my  energy  I  steered  towards  the 
light. 

Suddenly  I  got  out  of  the  thunder-cloud. 
The  rain  was  still  falling  in  torrents.  Still, 
I  felt  saved. 

In  pouring  rain  I  landed  at  my  aero- 
drome. Everyone  was  waiting  for  me,  for 
Metz  had  reported  my  start  and  had  told 
them  that  I  had  been  swallowed  up  by  a 
thunder  cloud. 

I  shall  never  again  fly  through  a  thunder- 
storm unless  the  Fatherland  should  demand 
this. 

Now,  when  I  look  back,  I  realize  that  it 
was  all  very  beautiful.  Nothwithstanding 
the  danger  during  my  flight,  I  experienced 
glorious  moments  which  I  would  not  care  to 
have  missed. 

95 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

My  First  Time  In  a  Fokker 
ROM  the  beginning  of  my  career  as  a 
pilot  I  had  only  a  single  ambition,  the  am- 
bition to  fly  in  a  single-seater  battle-plane. 
After  worrying  my  commander  for  a  long 
time  I  at  last  obtained  permission  to  mount 
a  Fokker.  The  revolving  motor  was  a  nov- 
elty to  me.  Besides,  it  was  a  strange  feeling 
to  be  quite  alone  during  the  flight. 

The  Fokker  belonged  jointly  to  a  friend  of 
mine  who  has  died  long  ago  and  to  myself. 
I  flew  in  the  morning  and  he  in  the  after- 
noon. Both  he  and  I  were  afraid  that  the 
other  fellow  would  smash  the  box.  On  the 
second  day  we  flew  towards  the  enemy. 
When  I  flew  in  the  morning  no  Frenchman 
was  to  be  seen.  In  the  afternoon  it  was  his 
turn.  He  started  but  did  not  return.  There 
was  no  news  from  him. 

Late  in  the  evening  the  infantry  reported 
an  aerial  battle  between  a  Nieuport  and  a 
German  Fokker,  in  the  course  of  which  the 
German  machine  had  apparently  landed  at 
the  Mort  Homme.  Evidently  the  occupant 
was  friend  Reimann  for  all  the  other  flying 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

men  had  returned.  We  regretted  the  fate 
of  our  brave  comrade.  Suddenly,  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  we  heard  over  the  tele- 
phone that  a  German  flying  officer  had  made 
an  unexpected  appearance  in  the  front 
trenches  at  the  Mort  Homme.  It  appeared 
that  this  was  Reimann.  His  motor  had  been 
smashed  by  a  shot.  He  had  been  forced 
to  land.  As  he  was  not  able  to  reach  our 
own  lines  he  had  come  to  the  ground  in 
No  Man's  Land.  He  had  rapidly  set  fire  to 
the  machine  and  had  then  quickly  hidden 
himself  in  a  mine  crater.  During  the  night 
he  had  slunk  into  our  trenches.  Thus  ended 
our  joint  enterprise  with  a  Fokker. 

A  few  days  later  I  was  given  another 
Fokker.  This  time  I  felt  under  a  moral  obli- 
gation to  attend  to  its  destruction  myself.  I 
was  flying  for  the  third  time.  When  start- 
ing, the  motor  suddenly  stopped  working.  I 
had  to  land  right  away  in  a  field  and  in  a 
moment  the  beautiful  machine  was  con- 
verted into  a  mass  of  scrap  metal.  It  was 
a  miracle  that  I  was  not  hurt. 


97 


vn 

Bombing  In  Russia 

YN  June  we  were  suddenly  ordered  to 
entrain.  No  one  knew  where  we  were 
going,  but  we  had  an  idea  and  we  were  not 
over  much  surprised  when  our  Commander 
told  us  that  we  were  going  to  Russia.  We 
had  traveled  through  the  whole  of  Germany 
with  our  perambulating  hotel  which  con- 
sisted of  dining  and  sleeping  cars,  and 
arrived  at  last  at  Kovel.  There  we  remained 
in  our  railway  cars.  There  are  many  advan- 
tages in  dwelling  in  a  train.  One  is  always 
ready  to  travel  on  and  need  not  change  one's 
quarters.* 

In  the  heat  of  the  Russian  summer  a  sleep- 
ing car  is  the  most  horrible  instrument  of 
martyrdom  imaginable.  Therefore,  I  agreed 
with  some  friends  of  mine,  Gerstenberg  and 

This  is  the  first  reference  to  the  regular  "Traveling  Circus" 
idea,  in  which  the  whole  squadron  works  as  a  self-contained  unit, 
with  a  special  train  to  move  its  material,  stores,  spares,  and  me- 
chanics, from  place  to  place,  and  also  provides  living  accommoda- 
tions for  the  pilots. 

98 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Scheele,  to  take  quarters  in  the  forest  near 
by.  We  erected  a  tent  and  lived  like  gypsies. 
We  had  a  lovely  time. 

In  Russia  our  battle  squadron  did  a  great 
deal  of  bomb  throwing.  Our  occupation 
consisted  of  annoying  the  Russians.  We 
dropped  our  eggs  on  their  finest  railway  es- 
tablishments. One  day  our  whole  squadron 
went  out  to  bomb  a  very  important  railway 
station.  The  place  was  called  Manjewicze 
and  was  situated  about  twenty  miles  behind 
the  Front.  That  was  not  very  far.  The  Rus- 
sians had  planned  an  attack  and  the  station 
was  absolutely  crammed  with  colossal 
trains.  Trains  stood  close  to  one  another. 
Miles  of  rails  were  covered  with  them.  One 
could  easily  see  that  from  above.  There 
was  an  object  for  bombing  that  was  worth 
while. 

One  can  become  enthusiastic  over  any- 
thing. For  a  time  I  was  delighted  with  bomb 
throwing.  It  gave  me  a  tremendous  pleas- 
ure to  bomb  those  fellows  from  above.  Fre- 
quently I  took  part  in  two  expeditions  on  a 
single  day. 

99 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

On  the  day  mentioned  our  object  was 
Manjewicze.  Everything  was  ready.  The 
aeroplanes  were  ready  to  start.  Every  pilot 
tried  his  motor,  for  it  is  a  painful  thing  to 
be  forced  to  land  against  one's  will  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  Front  line,  especially  in 
Russia.  The  Russians  hated  the  flyers.  If 
they  caught  a  flying  man  they  would  cer- 
tainly kill  him.  That  is  the  only  risk  one 
ran  in  Russia  for  the  Russians  had  no  avi- 
ators, or  practically  none.  If  a  Russian  flying 
man  turned  up  he  was  sure  to  have  bad  luck 
and  would  be  shot  down.  The  anti-aircraft 
guns  used  by  Russia  were  sometimes  quite 
good,  but  they  were  too  few  -in  number. 
Compared  with  flying  in  the  West,  flying  in 
the  East  is  absolutely  a  holiday. 

The  aeroplanes  rolled  heavily  to  the  start- 
ing point.  They  carried  bombs  to  the  very 
limit  of  their  capacity.  Sometimes  I  dragged 
three  hundred  pounds  of  bombs  with  a  nor- 
mal C-machine.*  Besides,  I  had  with  me  a 
very  heavy  observer  who  apparently  had 

The  German  C-type  machines  are  the  two-seater  reconnaissance 
types.  The  D-typ«  are  the  single-seater  fighters  or  "chaser"  ma- 
chines. The  G-type  are  the  big  three-ieater  bombers. 

100 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

not  suffered  in  any  way  from  the  food  scarc- 
ity.* I  had  also  with  me  a  couple  of  machine 
guns.  I  was  never  able  to  make  proper  use 
of  them  in  Russia.  It  is  a  pity  that  my  col- 
lection of  trophies  contains  not  a  single 
Russian. 

Flying  with  a  heavy  machine  which  is 
carrying  a  great  dead  weight  is  no  fun,  espe- 
cially during  the  mid-day  summer  heat  in 
Russia.  The  barges  sway  in  a  very  disa- 
greeable manner.  Of  course,  heavily  laden 
though  they  are,  they  do  not  fall  down.  The 
150  h.  p.  motors  prevent  it.**  At  the  same 
time  it  is  no  pleasant  sensation  to  carry  such 
a  large  quantity  of  explosives  and  benzine. 

At  last  we  get  into  a  quiet  atmosphere. 
Now  comes  the  enjoyment  of  bombing.  It  is 
splendid  to  be  able  to  fly  in  a  straight  line 

•It  is  interesting  to  find  a  German  joking  about  food  scarcity 
in  1916,  exactly  as  people  in  England  joke  about  it  in  1918.  One 
is  able  thus  to  form  some  idea  of  the  comparative  states  of  the 
two  countries,  and  to  judge  how  Germany  would  have  fared  if  the 
British  blockage  had  beea  rigidly  enforced  at  the  beginning  of 
the  war. 

**It  was  150  horsepower  in  1916.  By  the  beginning  of  1918  all 
modern  German  C-type  machines  had  260  h.p.,  and  by  April,  1918, 
German  biplanes  with  500  h.p.  in  one  engine  were  beginning  to 
appear.  In  consequence  the  extreme  height  (or  "ceiling")  of  ft 
C-type  machine  had  risen  from  12,000  feet  to  20,000  feet. 

101 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

and  to  have  a  definite  object  and  definite 
orders.  After  having  thrown  one's  bombs 
one  has  the  feeling  that  he  has  achieved 
something,  while  frequently,  after  searching 
for  an  enemy  to  give  battle  to,  one  comes 
home  with  a  sense  of  failure  at  not  having 
brought  a  hostile  machine  to  the  ground. 
Then  a  man  is  apt  to  say  to  himself,  "You 
have  acted  stupidly." 

It  gave  me  a  good  deal  of  pleasure  to 
throw  bombs.  After  a  while  my  observer 
learned  how  to  fly  perpendicularly  over  the 
objects  to  be  bombed  and  to  make  use  of  the 
right  moment  for  laying  his  egg  with  the 
assistance  of  his  aiming  telescope. 

The  run  to  Manjewicze  is  very  pleasant 
and  I  have  made  it  repeatedly.  We  passed 
over  gigantic  forests  which  were  probably 
inhabited  by  elks  and  lynxes.  But  the  vil- 
lages looked  miserable.  The  only  substan- 
tial village  in  the  whole  neighborhood  was 
Manjewicze.  It  was  surrounded  by  innu- 
merable tents,  and  countless  barracks  had 
been  run  up  near  the  railway  station.  We 
could  not  make  out  the  Red  Cross. 

102 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Another  flying  squadron  had  visited  the 
place  before  us.  That  could  be  told  by  the 
smoking  houses  and  barracks.  They  had  not 
done  badly.  The  exit  of  the  station  had  obvi- 
ously been  blocked  by  a  lucky  hit.  The 
engine  was  still  steaming.  The  engine  driver 
had  probably  dived  into  a  shelter.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  station  an  engine  was  just 
coming  out.  Of  course  I  felt  tempted  to 
hit  it.  We  flew  towards  the  engine  and 
dropped  a  bomb  a  few  hundred  yards 
in  front  of  it.  We  had  the  desired  result. 
The  engine  stopped.  We  turned  and  con- 
tinued throwing  bomb  after  bomb  on  the 
station,  carefully  taking  aim  through  our 
aiming  telescope.  We  had  plenty  of  time 
for  nobody  interfered  with  us.  It  is  true 
that  an  enemy  aerodrome  was  in  the  neigh- 
borhood but  there  was  no  trace  of  hostile 
pilots.  A  few  anti-aircraft  guns  were  busy, 
but  they  shot  not  in  our  direction  but  in  an- 
other one.  We  reserved  a  bomb  hoping  to 
make  particularly  good  use  of  it  on  our  way 
home. 

Suddenly  we  noticed  an  enemy  flying  ma- 

103 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

chine  starting  from  its  hangar.  The  ques- 
tion was  whether  it  would  attack  us.  I  did 
not  believe  in  an  attack.  It  was  more  likely 
that  the  flying  man  was  seeking  security  in 
the  air,  for  when  bombing  machines  are 
about,  the  air  is  the  safest  place. 

We  went  home  by  roundabout  ways  and 
looked  for  camps.  It  was  particularly  amus- 
ing to  pepper  the  gentlemen  down  below 
with  machine  guns.  Half  savage  tribes  from 
Asia  are  even  more  startled  when  fired  at 
from  above  than  are  cultured  Englishmen. 
It  is  particularly  interesting  to  shoot  at  hos- 
tile cavalry.  An  aerial  attack  upsets  them 
completely.  Suddenly  the  lot  of  them  rush 
away  in  all  directions  of  the  compass.  I 
should  not  like  to  be  the  Commander  of  a 
Squadron  of  Cossacks  which  has  been  fired 
at  with  machine  guns  from  aeroplanes.* 

•Attacks  on  troops  on  roads  by  low-flying  aeroplanes  were  not 
regrularly  organized  acts  of  war  in  those  days,  though  such  attacks 
had  been  made  by  R.  N.  A.  S.  pilots  in  Belgium  in  1914.  It  is 
curious  that  despite  the  observed  effects  of  the  R.  N.  A.  S.  attacks, 
and  the  experiences  of  such  men  as  von  Richthofen,  neither  th» 
British  nor  the  German  aeronautical  authorities  ever  took  the 
trouble  to  devote  attention  to  this  new  method  of  war.  The  racial 
similarity  of  the  two  belligerents  is  marked  in  this  as  in  other 
matter*. 

104 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

By  and  by  we  could  recognize  the  German 
lines.  We  had  to  dispose  of  our  last  bomb 
and  we  resolved  to  make  a  present  of  it  to 
a  Russian  observation  balloon,  to  the  only 
observation  balloon  they  possessed.  We 
could  quite  comfortably  descend  to  within 
a  few  hundred  yards  of  the  ground  in  order 
to  attack  it.  At  first  the  Russians  began  to 
haul  it  in  very  rapidly.  When  the  bomb  had 
been  dropped  the  hauling  stopped.  I  did  not 
believe  that  I  had  hit  it.  I  rather  imagined 
that  the  Russians  had  left  their  chief  in  the 
air  and  had  run  away.  At  last  we  reached 
our  front  and  our  trenches  and  were  sur- 
prised to  find  when  we  got  home  that  we  had 
been  shot  at  from  below.  At  least  one  of  the 
planes  had  a  hole  in  it. 

Another  time  and  in  the  same  neighbor- 
hood we  were  ordered  to  meet  an  attack  of 
the  Russians  who  intended  to  cross  the  river 
Stokhod.  We  came  to  the  danger  spot  laden 
with  bombs  and  carrying  a  large  number  of 
cartridges  for  our  machine  guns.  On  arrival 
at  the  Stokhod,  we  were  surprised  to  see 
that  hostile  cavalry  was  already  crossing. 

105 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

They  were  passing  over  a  single  bridge.  Im- 
mediately it  was  clear  to  us  that  one  might 
do  a  tremendous  lot  of  harm  to  the  enemy 
by  hitting  the  bridge. 

Dense  masses  of  men  were  crossing.  We 
went  as  low  as  possible  and  could  clearly  see 
the  hostile  cavalry  crossing  by  way  of  the 
bridge  with  great  rapidity.  The  first 
bomb  fell  near  the  bridge.  The  second 
and  third  followed  immediately.  They 
created  a  tremendous  disorder.  The  bridge 
had  not  been  hit.  Nevertheless  traffic 
across  it  had  completely  ceased.  Men 
and  animals  were  rushing  away  in  all 
directions.  We  had  thrown  only  three 
bombs  but  the  success  had  been  ex- 
cellent. Besides,  a  whole  squadron  of  aero- 
planes was  following  us.  Lastly,  we  could 
do  other  things.  My  observer  fired  ener- 
getically into  the  crowd  down  below  with 
his  machine  gun  and  we  enjoyed  it  tremend- 
ously. Of  course,  I  cannot  say  what  real 
success  we  had.  The  Russians  have  not 
told  us.  Still  I  imagined  that  I  alone  had 
caused  the  Russian  attack  to  fail.  Perhaps 

106 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

the   official   account   of   the   Russian   War 
Office  will  give  me  details  after  the  war. 

At  Last! 

HE  August  sun  was  almost  unbearably 
hot  on  the  sandy  flying  ground  at  Kovel. 
While  we  were  chatting  among  ourselves 
one  of  my  comrades  said :  "To-day  the  great 
Boelcke  arrives  on  a  visit  to  us,  or  rather 
to  his  brother!"  In  the  evening  the  great 
man  came  to  hand.  He  was  vastly  admired 
by  all  and  he  told  us  many  interesting  things 
about  his  journey  to  Turkey.  He  was  just 
returning  from  Turkey  and  was  on  the  way 
to  Headquarters.  He  imagined  that  he 
would  go  to  the  Somme  to  continue  his 
work.  He  was  to  organize  a  fighting  squad- 
ron. He  was  empowered  to  select  from  the 
flying  corps  those  men  who  seemed  to  him 
particularly  qualified  for  his  purpose. 

I  did  not  dare  to  ask  him  to  be  taken  on. 
I  did  not  feel  bored  by  the  fighting  in  Russia. 
On  the  contrary,  we  made  extensive  and  in- 
teresting flights.  We  bombed  the  Russians 
at  their  stations.  Still,  the  idea  of  fighting 

107 


THE     RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

again  on  the  Western  Front  attracted  me. 
There  is  nothing  finer  for  a  young  cavalry 
officer  than  the  chase  of  the  air. 

The  next  morning  Boelcke  was  to  leave 
us.  Quite  early  somebody  knocked  at  my 
door  and  before  me  stood  the  great  man  with 
the  Ordre  pour  le  Merite.  I  knew  him,  as  I 
have  previously  mentioned,  but  still  I  had 
never  imagined  that  he  came  to  look  me  up 
in  order  to  ask  me  to  become  his  pupil.  I 
almost  fell  upon  his  neck  when  he  inquired 
whether  I  cared  to  go  with  him  to  the 
Somme. 

Three  days  later  I  sat  in  the  railway 
train  and  traveled  through  the  whole  of 
Germany  straight  away  to  the  new  field  of 
my  activity.  At  last  my  greatest  wish  was 
fulfilled.  From  now  onwards  began  the 
finest  time  of  my  life. 

At  that  time  I  did  not  dare  to  hope  that 
I  should  be  as  successful  as  I  have  been. 
When  I  left  my  quarters  in  the  East  a  good 
friend  of  mine  called  out  after  me:  "See 
that  you  do  not  come  back  without  the  Ordre 
pour  le  Merite." 

108 


vra 

My  First  English  Victim. 
(17th  September,   1915)* 

VI/7  E  were  all  at  the  butts  trying  our  ma- 
**  chine  guns.  On  the  previous  day  we 
had  received  our  new  aeroplanes  and  the 
next  morning  Boelcke  was  to  fly  with  us. 
We  were  all  beginners.  None  of  us  had  had 
a  success  so  far.  Consequently  everything 
that  Boelcke  told  us  was  to  us  gospel  truth. 
Every  day,  during  the  last  few  days,  he  had, 
as  he  said,  shot  one  or  two  Englishmen  for 
breakfast. 

The  next  morning,  the  seventeenth  of 
September,  was  a  gloriously  fine  day.  It 
was  therefore  only  to  be  expected  that  the 
English  would  be  very  active.  Before  we 

•This  locates  almost  exactly  the  date  of  the  formation  of  the 
first  Boelcke  Circus. 

109 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

started  Boelcke  repeated  to  us  his  instruc- 
tions and  for  the  first  time  we  flew  as  a 
squadron  commanded  by  the  great  man 
whom  we  followed  blindly. 

We  had  just  arrived  at  the  Front  when 
we  recognized  a  hostile  flying  squadron 
that  was  proceeding  in  the  direction  of  Cam- 
brai.  Boelcke  was  of  course  the  first  to  see 
it,  for  he  saw  a  great  deal  more  than  ordi- 
nary mortals.  Soon  we  understood  the  posi- 
tion and  everyone  of  us  strove  to  follow 
Boelcke  closely.  It  was  clear  to  all  of  us 
that  we  should  pass  our  first  examination 
under  the  eyes  of  our  beloved  leader. 

Slowly  we  approached  the  hostile  squad- 
ron. It  could  not  escape  us.  We  had  in- 
tercepted it,  for  we  were  between  the  Front 
and  our  opponents.  If  they  wished  to  go 
back  they  had  to  pass  us.  We  counted  the 
hostile  machines.  They  were  seven  in  num- 
ber. We  were  only  five.  All  the  English- 
men flew  large  bomb-carrying  two-seaters. 
In  a  few  seconds  the  dance  would  begin. 

Boelcke  had  come  very  near  the  first  Eng- 
lish machine  but  he  did  not  yet  shoot.  I 

no 


THE     RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

followed.  Close  to  me  were  my  comrades. 
The  Englishman  nearest  to  me  was  travel- 
ing in  a  large  boat  painted  with  dark  colors. 
I  did  not  reflect  very  long  but  took  my  aim 
and  shot.  He  also  fired  and  so  did  I,  and 
both  of  us  missed  our  aim.  A  struggle  began 
and  the  great  point  for  me  was  to  get  to 
the  rear  of  the  fellow  because  I  could  only 
shoot  forward  with  my  gun.  He  was  differ- 
ently placed  for  his  machine  gun  was  mov- 
able. It  could  fire  in  all  directions. 

Apparently  he  was  no  beginner,  for  he 
knew  exactly  that  his  last  hour  had  arrived 
at  the  moment  when  I  got  at  the  back  of 
him.  At  that  time  I  had  not  yet  the  con- 
viction "He  must  fall!"  which  I  have  now 
on  such  occasions,  but  on  the  contrary,  I  was 
curious  to  see  whether  he  would  fall.  There 
is  a  great  difference  between  the  two  feel- 
ings. When  one  has  shot  down  one's  first, 
second  or  third  opponent,  then  one  begins  to 
find  out  how  the  trick  is  done. 

My  Englishman  twisted  and  turned,  going 
criss-cross.  I  did  not  think  for  a  moment 
that  the  hostile  squadron  contained  other 

zzx 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

Englishmen  who  conceivably  might  come  to1 
the  aid  of  their  comrade.  I  was  animated  by 
a  single  thought:  "The  man  in  front  of  me 
must  come  down,  whatever  happens."  At! 
last  a  favorable  moment  arrived.  My  op-1 
ponent  had  apparently  lost  sight  of  me.  In-1 
stead  of  twisting  and  turning  he  flew 
straight  along.  In  a  fraction  of  a  second  Ij 
was  at  his  back  with  my  excellent  machine., 
I  give  a  short  series  of  shots  with  my  ma^ 
chine  gun.  I  had  gone  so  close  that  I  was) 
afraid  I  might  dash  into  the  Englishman.! 
Suddenly,  I  nearly  yelled  with  joy  for  the 
propeller  of  the  enemy  machine  had  stopped' 
turning.  I  had  shot  his  engine  to  pieces ;  the1 
enemy  was  compelled  to  land,  for  it  was  im- 
possible for  him  to  reach  his  own  lines.  The) 
English  machine  was  curiously  swinging  to' 
and  fro.  Probably  something  had  happened 
to  the  pilot.  The  observer  was  no  longer1 
visible.  His  machine  gun  was  apparently1 
deserted.  Obviously  I  had  hit  the  observer 
and  he  had  fallen  from  his  seat. 

The  Englishman  landed  close  to  the  flying! 
ground  of  one  of  our  squadrons.    I  was  so1 

112 


THE     RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

excited  that  I  landed  also  and  my  eagerness 
was  so  great  that  I  nearly  smashed  up  my 
machine.  The  English  flying  machine  and 
my  own  stood  close  together.  I  rushed  to 
the  English  machine  and  saw  that  a  lot  of 
soldiers  were  running  towards  my  enemy. 
When  I  arrived  I  discovered  that  my  as- 
sumption had  been  correct.  I  had  shot  the 
engine  to  pieces  and  both  the  pilot  and  ob- 
server were  severely  wounded.  The  ob- 
server died  at  once  and  the  pilot  while  being 
transported  to  the  nearest  dressing  station. 
I  honored  the  fallen  enemy  by  placing  a 
stone  on  his  beautiful  grave. 

When  I  came  home  Boelcke  and  my  other 
comrades  were  already  at  breakfast.  They 
were  surprised  that  I  had  not  turned  up. 
I  reported  proudly  that  I  had  shot  down  an 
Englishman.  All  were  full  of  joy  for  I  was 
not  the  only  victor.  As  usual,  Boelcke  had 
shot  down  an  opponent  for  breakfast  and 
everyone  of  the  other  men  also  had  downed 
an  enemy  for  the  first  time. 

I  would  mention  that  since  that  time  no 
English  squadron  ventured  as  far  as  Cam- 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

brai  as  long  as  Boelcke's  squadron  was 
there.* 

The  Battle  of  the  Somm* 

TPvURING  my  whole  life  I  have  not  found 
*~*  a  happier  hunting  ground  than  in  the 
course  of  the  Somme  Battle.  In  the  morn- 
ing, as  soon  as  I  had  got  up,  the  first  English- 
men arrived,  and  the  last  did  not  disap- 
pear until  long  after  sunset.  Boelcke  once 
said  that  this  was  the  El  Dorado  of  the  flying 
men. 

There  was  a  time  when,  within  two 
months,  Boelcke's  bag  of  machines  increased 
from  twenty  to  forty.  We  beginners  had 
not  at  that  time  the  experience  of  our 
master  and  we  were  quite  satisfied  when  we 
did  not  get  a  hiding.  It  was  an  exciting 
period.  Every  time  we  went  up  we  had  a 
fight.  Frequently  we  fought  really  big 
battles  in  the  air.  There  were  sometimes 

'Cambrai  at  that  time  was  a  long  way  behind  the  front,  and 
Bapaume  was  a  more  important  mark  for  the  British  squadrons. 
So  it  may  not  have  been  worth  while  for  squadrons  to  go  so  far 
afield  as  Cambrai.  Single  machines  on  loug  reconnaissance  visited 
Cambrai  regularly. 

"4 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

from  forty  to  sixty  English  machines,  but 
unfortunately  the  Germans  were  often  in 
the  minority.  With  them  quality  was  more 
important  than  quantity. 

Still  the  Englishman  is  a  smart  fellow. 
That  we  must  allow.  Sometimes  the  Eng- 
lish came  down  to  a  very  low  altitude  and 
visited  Boelcke  in  his  quarters,  upon  which 
they  threw  their  bombs.  They  absolutely 
challenged  us  to  battle  and  never  refused 
fighting. 

We  had  a  delightful  time  with  our  chasing 
squadron.  The  spirit  of  our  leader  animated 
all  his  pupils.  We  trusted  him  blindly. 
There  was  no  possibility  that  one  of  us 
would  be  left  behind.  Such  a  thought  was 
incomprehensible  to  us.  Animated  by  that 
spirit  we  gaily  diminished  the  number  of  our 
enemies. 

On  the  day  when  Boelcke  fell  the  squadron 
had  brought  down  forty  opponents.  By  now 
the  number  has  been  increased  by  more  than 
a  hundred.  Boelcke's  spirit  lives  still  among 
his  capable  successors. 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

Boelcke's  Death.     (28th  October, 

NE  day  we  were  flying,  once  more 
guided  by  Boelcke  against  the  enemy. 
We  always  had  a  wonderful  feeling  of  se- 
curity when  he  was  with  us.  After  all  he 
was  the  one  and  only.  The  weather  was 
very  gusty  and  there  were  many  clouds. 
There  were  no  aeroplanes  about  except 
fighting  ones. 

From  a  long  distance  we  saw  two  im- 
pertinent Englishmen  in  the  air  who  actu- 
ally seemed  to  enjoy  the  terrible  weather. 
We  were  six  and  they  were  two.  If  they 
had  been  twenty  and  if  Boelcke  had  given 
us  the  signal  to  attack  we  should  not  have 
been  at  all  surprised. 

The  struggle  began  in  the  usual  way. 
Boelcke  tackled  the  one  and  I  the  other.  I 
had  to  let  go  because  one  of  the  German 
machines  got  in  my  way.  I  looked  around 
and  noticed  Boelcke  settling  his  victim  about 
two  hundred  yards  away  from  me. 

It  was  the  usual  thing.  Boelcke  would 
shoot  down  his  opponent  and  I  had  to  look 

116 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

on.  Close  to  Boelcke  flew  a  good  friend  of 
his.  It  was  an  interesting  struggle.  Both 
men  were  shooting.  It  was  probable  that 
the  Englishman  would  fall  at  any  moment. 
Suddenly  I  noticed  an  unnatural  movement 
of  the  two  German  flying  machines.  Imme- 
diately I  thought:  Collision.  I  had  not  yet 
seen  a  collision  in  the  air.  I  had  imagined 
that  it  would  look  quite  different.  In  reality, 
what  happened  was  not  a  collision.  The 
two  machines  merely  touched  one  another. 
However,  if  two  machines  go  at  the  tre- 
mendous pace  of  flying  machines,  the  slight- 
est contact  has  the  effect  of  a  violent  con- 
cussion. 

Boelcke  drew  away  from  his  victim  and 
descended  in  large  curves.  He  did  not  seem 
to  be  falling,  but  when  I  saw  him  descending 
below  me  I  noticed  that  part  of  his  planes 
had  broken  off.  I  could  not  see  what 
happened  afterwards,  but  in  the  clouds 
he  lost  an  entire  plane.  Now  his  ma- 
chine was  no  longer  steerable.  It  fell 
accompanied  all  the  time  by  Boelcke's 
faithful  friend. 

117 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

When  we  reached  home  we  found  the  re- 
port "Boelcke  is  dead !"  had  already  arrived. 
We  could  scarcely  realize  it. 

The  greatest  pain  was,  of  course,  felt  by 
the  man  who  had  the  misfortune  to  be  in- 
volved in  the  accident. 

It  is  a  strange  thing  that  everybody  who 
met  Boelcke  imagined  that  he  alone  was  his 
true  friend.  I  have  made  the  acquaintance 
of  about  forty  men,  each  of  whom  imagined 
that  he  alone  was  Boelcke's  intimate.  Each 
imagined  that  he  had  the  monopoly  of 
Boelcke's  affections.  Men  whose  names 
were  unknown  to  Boelcke  believed  that  he 
was  particularly  fond  of  them.  This  is  a 
curious  phenomenom  which  I  have  never 
noticed  in  anyone  else.  Boelcke  had  not  a 
personal  enemy.  He  was  equally  polite  to 
everybody,  making  no  differences. 

The  only  one  who  was  perhaps  more  in- 
timate with  him  than  the  others  was  the 
very  man  who  had  the  misfortune  to  be  in 
the  accident  which  caused  his  death. 

Nothing  happens  without  God's  will.  That 
is  the  only  consolation  which  any  of  us 
lit 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

can    put    to    our    souls    during    this    war. 

My  Eighth  Victim 

TN  Boelcke's  time  eight  was  quite  a  re- 
*  spectable  number.  Those  who  hear 
nowadays  of  the  colossal  bags  made  by  cer- 
tain aviators  must  feel  convinced  that  it  has 
become  easier  to  shoot  down  a  machine.  I 
can  assure  those  who  hold  that  opinion  that 
the  flying  business  is  becoming  more  diffi- 
cult from  month  to  month  and  even  from 
week  to  week.  Of  course,  with  the  increas- 
ing number  of  aeroplanes  one  gains  in- 
creased opportunities  for  shooting  down 
one's  enemies,  but  at  the  same  time,  the 
possibility  of  being  shot  down  one's  self  in- 
creases. The  armament  of  our  enemies  is 
steadily  improving  and  their  number  is  in- 
creasing.* When  Immelmann  shot  down  his 
first  victim  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  find 
an  opponent  who  carried  not  even  a  machine 
gun.  Such  little  innocents  one  finds  nowa- 
days only  at  the  training  ground  for  begin- 
ners. 

"Thii   te«timony   to   th«  improrement   in   th«  aerial   equipment  of 
the  British  Army  is  well  worthy  of  uotc. 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

On  the  ninth  of  November,  1916,  I  flew 
towards  the  enemy  with  my  little  comrade 
Immelmann,*  who  then  was  eighteen  years 
old.  We  both  were  in  Boelcke's  squadron 
of  chasing  aeroplanes.  We  had  previously 
met  one  another  and  had  got  on  very  well. 
Comradeship  is  a  most  important  thing.  We 
went  to  work.  I  had  already  bagged  seven 
enemies  and  Immelmann  five.  At  that  time 
this  was  quite  a  lot. 

Soon  after  our  arrival  at  the  front  we 
saw  a  squadron  of  bombing  aeroplanes. 
They  were  coming  along  with  impertinent 
assurance.  They  arrived  in  enormous  num- 
bers as  was  usual  during  the  Somme  Battle. 
I  think  there  were  about  forty  or  fifty  ma- 
chines approaching.  I  cannot  give  the  exact 
number.  They  had  selected  an  object  for 
their  bombs  not  far  from  our  aerodrome.  I 
reached  them  when  they  had  almost  attained 
their  objective.  I  approached  the  last  ma- 
chine. My  first  few  shots  incapacitated  the 
hostile  machine  gunner.  Possibly  they  had 

•This  is  evidently  a  junior  Immelmann  of  Boelcke's  squadron, 
and  not  the  famous  Iramelmann,  who  was  already  dead  before  the 
Boelcke  squadron  came  into  existence. 

120 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

tickled  the  pilot,  too.  At  any  rate  he  re- 
solved to  land  with  his  bombs.  I  fired  a 
few  more  shots  to  accelerate  his  progress 
downwards.  He  fell  close  to  our  flying 
ground  at  Lagnicourt. 

While  I  was  fighting  my  opponent,  Im- 
melmann  had  tackled  another  Englishman 
and  had  brought  him  down  in  the  same  lo- 
cality. Both  of  us  flew  quickly  home  in 
order  to  have  a  look  at  the  machines  we 
had  downed.  We  jumped  into  a  motor  car, 
drove  in  the  direction  where  our  victims 
lay  and  had  to  run  along  a  distance  through 
the  fields.  It  was  very  hot,  therefore  I  un- 
buttoned all  my  garments  even  the  collar 
and  the  shirt.  I  took  off  my  jacket,  left  my 
cap  in  the  car  but  took  with  me  a  big  stick. 
My  boots  were  miry  up  to  the  knees.  I 
looked  like  a  tramp.  I  arrived  in  the  vicinity 
of  my  victim.  In  the  meantime,  a  lot  of 
people  had  of  course  gathered  around. 

At  one  spot  there  was  a  group  of  officers. 
I  approached  them,  greeted  them,  and  asked 
the  first  one  whom  I  met  whether  he  could 
tell  me  anything  about  the  aspect  of  the 

121 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

aerial  battle.  It  is  always  interesting  to  find 
out  how  a  fight  in  the  air  looks  to  the  people 
down  below.  I  was  told  that  the  English 
machines  had  thrown  bombs  and  that  the 
aeroplane  that  had  come  down  was  still 
carrying  its  bombs. 

The  officer  who  gave  me  this  information 
took  my  arm,  went  with  me  to  the  other 
officers,  asked  my  name  and  introduced  me 
to  them.  I  did  not  like  it,  for  my  attire  was 
rather  disarranged.  On  the  other  hand,  all 
the  officers  looked  as  spic  and  span  as  on 
parade.  I  was  introduced  to  a  personage 
who  impressed  me  rather  strangely.  I  no- 
ticed a  General's  trousers,  an  Order  at  the 
neck,  an  unusually  youthful  face  and  unde- 
finable  epaulettes.  In  sh6rt,  the  personage 
seemed  extraordinary  to  me.  During  our 
conversation  I  buttoned  my  shirt  and 
collar  and  adopted  a  somewhat  military 
attitude. 

I  had  no  idea  who  the  officer  was.  I  took 
my  leave  and  went  home  again.  In  the  eve- 
ning the  telephone  rang  and  I  was  told  that 
the  undefinable  somebody  with  whom  I  had 

122 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

been  talking  had  been  His  Royal  Highness, 
the  Grand-Duke  of  Saxe-Coburg  Gotha. 

I  was  ordered  to  go  to  him.  It  was  known 
that  the  English  had  intended  to  throw 
bombs  on  his  headquarters.  Apparently  I 
had  helped  to  keep  the  aggressors  away  from 
him.  Therefore  I  was  given  the  Saxe- 
Coburg  Gotha  medal  for  bravery. 

I  always  enjoy  this  adventure  when  I  look 
at,  the  medal. 

Major  Hawker 

T  WAS  extremely  proud  when,  one  fine 
*  day,  I  was  informed  that  the  airman 
whom  I  had  brought  down  on  the  twenty- 
third  of  November,  1916,  was  the  English 
Immelmann. 

In  view  of  the  character  of  our  fight  it  was 
clear  to  me  that  I  had  been  tackling  a  flying 
champion. 

One  day  I  was  blithely  flying  to  give  chase 
when  I  noticed  three  Englishmen  who  also 
had  apparently  gone  a-hunting.  I  noticed 
that  they  were  ogling  me  and  as  I  felt  much 
inclination  to  have  a  fight  I  did  not  want  to 
disappoint  them. 

123 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

I  was  flying  at  a  lower  altitude.  Conse- 
quently I  had  to  wait  until  one  of  my  English 
friends  tried  to  drop  on  me.  After  a  short 
while  one  of  the  three  came  sailing  along  and 
attempted  to  tackle  me  in  the  rear.  After 
firing  five  shots  he  had  to  stop  for  I  had 
swerved  in  a  sharp  curve. 

The  Englishman  tried  to  catch  me  up  in 
the  rear  while  I  tried  to  get  behind  him.  So 
we  circled  round  and  round  like  madmen 
after  one  another  at  an  altitude  of  about 
10,000  feet. 

First  we  circled  twenty  times  to  the  left, 
and  then  thirty  times  to  the  right.  Each 
tried  to  get  behind  and  above  the  other. 

Soon  I  discovered  that  I  was  not  meeting 
a  beginner.  He  had  not  the  slightest  inten- 
tion of  breaking  off  the  fight.  He  was  trav- 
eling in  a  machine  which  turned  beautifully.* 
However,  my  own  was  better  at  rising  than 
his,  and  I  succeeded  at  last  in  getting  above 
and  beyond  my  English  waltzing  partner. 

When  we  had  got  down  to  about  6,000 

'Major  Hawker  wag  flying  a  de  Harilland  II  with  a  100  h.p. 
Monosoupape  Gnome  engine,  a  species  of  "box-kite"  singlo-seater 
biplane,  albeit  Tcry  fast  aad  hand/. 

124 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

feet  without  having  achieved  anything  in 
particular,  my  opponent  ought  to  have  dis- 
covered that  it  was  time  for  him  to  take  his 
leave.  The  wind  was  favorable  to  me  for 
it  drove  us  more  and  more  towards  the  Ger- 
man position.  At  last  we  were  above  Ba- 
paume,  about  half  a  mile  behind  the  German 
front.  The  impertinent  fellow  was  full  of 
cheek  and  when  we  had  got  down  to  about 
3,000  feet  he  merrily  waved  to  me  as  if  he 
would  say,  "Well,  how  do  you  do?" 

The  circles  which  we  made  around  one 
another  were  so  narrow  that  their  diameter 
was  probably  no  more  than  250  or  300  feet. 
I  had  time  to  take  a  good  look  at  my  oppo- 
nent. I  looked  down  into  his  carriage  and 
could  see  every  movement  of  his  head.  If  he 
had  not  had  his  cap  on  I  would  have  noticed 
what  kind  of  a  face  he  was  making. 

My  Englishman  was  a  good  sportsman, 
but  by  and  by  the  thing  became  a  little  too 
hot  for  him.  He  had  to  decide  whether  he 
would  land  on  German  ground  or  whether 
he  would  fly  back  to  the  English  lines.  Of 
course  he  tried  the  latter,  after  having  en- 

I25 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

deavored  in  vain  to  escape  me  by  loopings 
and  such  like  tricks.  At  that  time  his  first 
bullets  were  flying  around  me,  for  hitherto 
neither  of  us  had  been  able  to  do  any 
shooting. 

When  he  had  come  down  to  about  three 
hundred  feet  he  tried  to  escape  by  flying  in 
a  zig-zag  course  during  which,  as  is  well 
known,  it  is  difficult  for  an  observer  to  shoot. 
That  was  my  most  favorable  moment.  I  fol- 
lowed him  at  an  altitude  of  from  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  to  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet,  firing  all  the  time.  The  Englishman 
could  not  help  falling.  But  the  jamming  of 
my  gun  nearly  robbed  me  of  my  success. 

My  opponent  fell,  shot  through  the  head, 
one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  behind  our  line. 
His  machine  gun  was  dug  out  of  the  ground 
and  it  ornaments  the  entrance  of  my 
dwelling.* 

•One  gathers  th«t  this  account  is  substantially  correct.  Th« 
other  two  British  machines  who  were  with  Major  Hawker  became 
involved  with  von  Richthofen's  four  followers  and  with  five  other 
German  chasers  which  came  into  the  fight  from  a  higher  altitude. 
These  two,  after  a  busy  time,  fought  their  way  out,  while  Major 
Hawker  was  fighting  von  Richthofen.  The  only  flaw  in  the  story 
is  that  in  fact  one  of  the  upper  German  machines  dived  onto 
Major  Hawker,  who,  apparently,  in  avoiding  it,  came  into  action 
with  Ton  Richthofen. 

126 


IX 
/  Get  the  Ordre  Pour  le  Merite 

T  HAD  brought  down  my  sixteenth  victim, 
*  and  I  had  come  to  the  head  of  the  list 
of  all  the  flying  chasers.  I  had  obtained  the 
aim  which  I  had  set  myself.  In  the  previous 
year  my  friend  Lynker,  with  whom  I  was 
training,  had  asked  me:  "What  is  your 
object?  What  will  you  obtain  by  flying?" 
I  replied,  jokingly,  "I  would  like  to  be  the 
first  of  the  chasers.  That  must  be  very  fine." 
That  I  should  succeed  in  this  I  did  not  be- 
lieve myself.  Other  people  also  did  not 
expect  my  success.  Boelcke  is  supposed  to 
have  said,  not  to  me  personally — I  have  only 
heard  the  report — when  asked:  "Which  of 
the  fellows  is  likely  to  become  a  good 
chaser?" — 'That  is  the  man!"  pointing  his 
finger  in  my  direction. 

127 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Boelcke  and  Immelman  were  given  the 
Ordre  pour  le  Merite  when  they  had  brought 
down  their  eighth  aeroplane.  I  had  downed 
twice  that  number.  The  question  was,  what 
would  happen  to  me?  I  was  very  curious. 
It  was  rumored  that  I  was  to  be  given  com- 
mand of  a  chasing  squadron. 

One  fine  day  a  telegram  arrived,  which 
stated:  "Lieutenant  von  Richthofen  is  ap- 
pointed Commander  of  the  Eleventh  Chasing 
Squadron." 

I  must  say  j.  was  annoyed.  I  had  learnt 
to  work  so  well  with  my  comrades  of 
Boelcke's  Squadron  and  now  I  had  to  begin 
all  over  again  working  hand  in  hand  with 
different  people.  It  was  a  beastly  nuisance. 
Besides  I  should  have  preferred  the  Ordre 
pour  le  Merite. 

Two  days  later,  when  we  were  sitting  so- 
ciably together,  we  men  of  Boelcke's  Squad- 
ron, celebrating  my  departure,  a  telegram 
from  Headquarters  arrived.  It  stated  that 
His  Majesty  had  graciously  condescended  to 
give  me  the  Ordre  pour  le  Merite.  Of  course 
my  joy  was  tremendous. 

120 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

I  had  never  imagined  that  it  would  be  so 
delightful  to  command  a  chasing  squadron. 
Even  in  my  dreams  I  had  not  imagined  that 
there  would  ever  be  a  Richthofen's  squadron 
of  aeroplanes. 

Le  Petit  Rouge 

T  T  occurred  to  me  to  have  my  packing  case 
*•  painted  all  over  in  staring  red.  The  re- 
sult was  that  everyone  got  to  know  my  red 
bird.  My  opponents  also  seemed  to  have 
heard  of  the  color  transformation. 

During  a  fight  on  quite  a  different  sec- 
tion of  the  Front  I  had  the  good  fortune  to 
shoot  into  a  Vickers'  two-seater  which 
peacefully  photographed  the  German  artil- 
lery position.  My  friend,  the  photographer, 
had  not  the  time  to  defend  himself.  He  had 
to  make  haste  to  get  down  upon  firm  ground 
for  his  machine  began  to  give  suspicious  in- 
dications of  fire.  When  we  airmen  notice 
that  phenomenon  in  an  enemy  plane,  we  say : 
"He  stinks !"  As  it  turned  out  it  was  really 
so.  When  the  machine  was  coming  to  earth 
it  burst  into  flames. 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

I  felt  some  human  pity  for  my  opponent 
and  had  resolved  not  to  cause  him  to  fall 
down  but  merely  to  compel  him  to  land.  I 
did  so  particularly  because  I  had  the  im- 
pression that  my  opponent  was  wounded  for 
he  did  not  fire  a  single  shot. 

When  I  had  got  down  to  an  altitude  of 
about  fifteen  hundred  feet  engine  trouble 
compelled  me  to  land  without  making  any 
curves.  The  result  was  very  comical.  My 
enemy  with  his  burning  machine  landed 
smoothly  while  I,  his  victor,  came  down  next 
to  him  in  the  barbed  wire  of  our  trenches  and 
my  machine  overturned.* 

The  two  Englishmen  who  were  not  a  little 
surprised  at  my  collapse,  greeted  me  like 
sportsmen.  As  mentioned  before,  they  had 
not  fired  a  shot  and  they  could  not  under- 
stand why  I  had  landed  so  clumsily.  They 
were  the  first  two  Englishmen  whom  I  had 
brought  down  alive.  Consequently,  it  gave 
me  particular  pleasure  to  talk  to  them.  I 
asked  them  whether  they  had  previously 

•This  incident  confirms  the  impression  that  the  small  Albatros 
biplanes  are  difficult  to  land  except  in  a  properly  prepared  aero- 
drome. 

I30 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

seen  my  machine  in  the  air,  and  one  of  them 
replied,  "Oh,  yes.  I  know  your  machine  very 
well.  We  call  it  'Le  Petit  Rouge'." 

English  and  French  Fly- 
ing.     (February, 


T   WAS  trying  to  compete  with  Boelcke's 

*•  squadron.  Every  evening  we  compared 
our  bags.  However,  Boelcke's  pupils  are 
smart  rascals.  I  cannot  get  ahead  of  them. 
The  utmost  one  can  do  is  to  draw  level  with 
them.  The  Boelcke  section  has  an  advan- 
tage over  my  squadron  of  one  hundred  aero- 
planes downed.  I  must  not  allow  them  to  re- 
tain it.  Everything  depends  on  whether  we 
have  for  opponents  those  French  tricksters  or 
those  daring  rascals,  the  English.  I  prefer 
the  English.  Frequently  their  daring  can 
only  be  described  as  stupidity.  In  their  eyes 
it  may  be  pluck  and  daring. 

The  great  thing  in  air  fighting  is  that  the 
decisive  factor  does  not  lie  in  trick  flying 
but  solely  in  the  personal  ability  and  energy 
of  the  aviator.  A  flying  man  may  be  able 

131 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

to  loop  and  do  all  the  stunts  imaginable  and 
yet  he  may  not  succeed  in  shooting  down  a 
single  enemy.  In  my  opinion  the  aggressive 
spirit  is  everything  and  that  spirit  is  very 
strong  in  us  Germans.  Hence  we  shall 
always  retain  the  domination  of  the  air.* 

The  French  have  a  different  character. 
They  like  to  put  traps  and  to  attack  their 
opponents  unawares.  That  cannot  easily  be 
done  in  the  air.  Only  a  beginner  can  be 
caught  and  one  cannot  set  traps  because  an 
aeroplane  cannot  hide  itself.  The  invisible 
aeroplane  has  not  yet  been  discovered. 
Sometimes,  however,  the  Gaelic  blood  as- 
serts itself.  The  Frenchmen  will  then 
attack.  But  the  French  attacking  spirit  is 
like  bottled  lemonade.  It  lacks  tenacity. 

The  Englishmen,  on  the  other  hand,  one 
notices  that  they  are  of  Germanic  blood. 
Sportsmen  easily  take  to  flying,  and  English- 
men see  in  flying  nothing  but  a  sport.  They 

*Except  when  faced  by  pilots  in  approximately  equal  numbers 
and  equally  mounted.  It  is  interesting  here  to  recall  the  dictum  of 
General  von  Hoppner,  the  chief  of  the  German  Flying  Service,  who 
said  that  the  English  are  dangerous  opponents  and  show  by  their 
fighting  spirit  that  they  are  of  Germanic  race.  It  will  be  noticed 
that  von  Richthofen  repeats  the  sentiment  later  on. 

132 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

take  a  perfect  delight  in  looping  the  loop, 
flying  on  their  back,  and  indulging  in  other 
stunts  for  the  benefit  of  our  soldiers  in  the 
trenches.  All  these  tricks  may  impress 
people  who  attend  a  Sports  Meeting,  but  the 
public  at  the  battle-front  is  not  as  apprecia- 
tive of  these  things.  It  demands  higher 
qualifications  than  trick  flying.  Therefore, 
the  blood  of  English  pilots  will  have  to  flow 
in  streams. 

I     Am     Shot     Down. 

(Middle  of  March,  1917) 

T  HAVE  had  an  experience  which  might 
*  perhaps  be  described  as  being  shot  down. 
At  the  same  time,  I  call  shot  down  only  when 
one  falls  down.  To-day  I  got  into  trouble 
but  I  escaped  with  a  whole  skin. 

I  was  flying  with  the  squadron  and  noticed 
an  opponent  who  also  was  flying  in  a  squad- 
ron. It  happened  above  the  German  artillery 
position  in  the  neighborhood  of  Lens.  I  had 
to  fly  quite  a  distance  to  get  there.  It  tickles 
one's  nerves  to  fly  towards  the  enemy,  espe- 
cially when  one  can  see  him  from  a  long 
distance  and  when  several  minutes  must 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

elapse  before  one  can  start  fighting.  I  im- 
agine that  at  such  a  moment  my  face  turns 
a  little  pale,  but  unfortunately  I  have  never 
had  a  mirror  with  me.  I  like  that  feeling  for 
it  is  a  wonderful  nerve  stimulant.  One 
observes  the  enemy  from  afar.  One  has 
recognized  that  his  squadron  is  really  an 
enemy  formation.  One  counts  the  number  of 
the  hostile  machines  and  considers  whether 
the  conditions  are  favorable  or  unfavorable. 
A  factor  of  enormous  importance  is  whether 
the  wind  forces  me  away  from  or  towards 
our  Front.  For  instance,  I  once  shot  down 
an  Englishman.  I  fired  the  fatal  shot  above 
the  English  position.  However,  the  wind 
was  so  strong  that  his  machine  came  down 
close  to  the  German  captive  balloons. 

We  Germans  had  five  machines.  Our  op- 
ponents were  three  times  as  numerous.  The 
English  flew  about  like  midges.  It  is  not 
easy  to  disperse  a  swarm  of  machines  which 
fly  together  in  good  order.  It  is  impossible 
for  a  single  machine  to  do  it.  It  is  extremely 
difficult  for  several  aeroplanes,  particularly 
if  the  difference  in  number  is  as  great  as  it 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

was  in  this  case.  However,  one  feels  such 
a  superiority  over  the  enemy  that  one  does 
not  doubt  of  success  for  a  moment. 

The  aggressive  spirit,  the  offensive,  is  the 
chief  thing  everywhere  in  war,  and  the  air 
is  no  exception.  However,  the  enemy  had 
the  same  idea.  I  noticed  that  at  once.  As 
soon  as  they  observed  us  they  turned  round 
and  attacked  us.  Now  we  five  had  to  look 
sharp.  If  one  of  them  should  fall  there 
might  be  a  lot  of  trouble  for  all  of  us.  We 
went  closer  together  and  allowed  the  foreign 
gentlemen  to  approach  us. 

I  watched  whether  one  of  the  fellows 
would  hurriedly  take  leave  of  his  colleagues. 
There!  One  of  them  is  stupid  enough  to 
depart  alone.  I  can  reach  him  and  I  say  to 
myself,  "That  man  is  lost."  Shouting  aloud, 
I  am  after  him.  I  have  come  up  to  him  or 
at  least  am  getting  very  near  him.  He  starts 
shooting  prematurely,  which  shows  that  he 
is  nervous.  So  I  say  to  myself,  "Go  on  shoot- 
ing. You  won't  hit  me."  He  shot  with  a 
kind  of  ammunition  which  ignites.  So  I 
could  see  his  shots  passing  me.  I  felt  as  if 

135 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

I  were  sitting  in  front  of  a  gigantic  watering 
pot.  The  sensation  was  not  pleasant.  Still, 
the  English  usually  shoot  with  their  beastly 
stuff,  and  so  we  must  try  and  get  accustomed 
to  it.*  One  can  get  accustomed  to  anything. 
At  the  moment  I  think  I  laughed  aloud.  But 
soon  I  got  a  lesson.  When  I  had  approached 
the  Englishman  quite  closely,  when  I  had 
come  to  a  distance  of  about  three  hundred 
feet,  I  got  ready  for  firing,  aimed  and  gave 
a  few  trial  shots.  The  machine  guns  were 
in  order.  The  decision  would  be  there  before 
long.  In  my  mind's  eye  I  saw  my  enemy 
dropping. 

My  former  excitement  was  gone.  In  such 
a  position  one  thinks  quite  calmly  and  col- 
lectedly and  weighs  the  probabilities  of 
hitting  and  of  being  hit.  Altogether  the 
fight  itself  is  the  least  exciting  part  of  the 
business  as  a  rule.  He  who  gets  excited  in 

*The  reference  i*  to  what  are  called  "tracer"  ballets.  The  hind 
end  of  the  bullet  contains  a  phosphorous  m  xture  which  leaves 
a  trail  of  smoke  and  so  indicates  to  the  gunn  r  where  his  bullets 
are  going.  If  such  a  bullet  penetrates  a  pe  rol  tank  or  passes 
through  escaping  petrol — due  to  a  perforated  t  nk  or  a  cut  petrol  - 
pipe — it  sets  the  petrol  on  fire,  but  the  prime  r  ason  is  to  trace  the 
course  of  the  shot.  The  Germans  use  similar  bullets  as  largely  as 
do  th»  Allies. 

136 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

fighting  is  sure  to  make  mistakes.  He  will 
never  get  his  enemy  down.  Besides  calm- 
ness is,  after  all,  a  matter  of  habit.  At  any 
rate  in  this  case  I  did  not  make  a  mistake. 
I  approached  my  man  up  to  fifty  yards.  Then 
I  fired  some  well  aimed  shots  and  thought 
that  I  was  bound  to  be  successful.  That  was 
my  idea.  But  suddenly  I  heard  a  tremendous 
bang,  when  I  had  scarcely  fired  ten  car- 
tridges. Presently  again  something  hit  my 
machine.  It  became  clear  to  me  that  I  had 
been  hit  or  rather  my  machine.  At  the  same 
time  I  noticed  a  fearful  benzine  stench  and 
I  observed  that  the  motor  was  running 
slack.  The  Englishman  noticed  it,  too,  for 
he  started  shooting  with  redoubled  energy 
while  I  had  to  stop  it. 

I  went  right  down.  Instinctively  I 
switched  off:  the  engine  and  indeed  it  was 
high  time  to  do  this.  When  a  pilot's  benzine 
tank  has  been  perforated,  and  when  the  in- 
fernal liquid  is  squirting  around  his  legs,  the 
danger  of  fire  is  very  great.  In  front  is  an 
explosion  engine  of  more  than  150  h.  p.  which 
is  red  hot.  If  a  single  drop  of  benzine  should 

137 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

fall  on  it  the  whole  machine  would  be  in 
flames.* 

I  left  in  the  air  a  thin  white  cloud.  I  knew 
its  meaning  from  my  enemies.  Its  appear- 
ance is  the  first  sign  of  a  coming  explosion. 
I  was  at  an  altitude  of  nine  thousand  feet 
and  had  to  travel  a  long  distance  to  get 
down.  By  the  kindness  of  Providence  my 
engine  stopped  running.  I  have  no  idea  with 
what  rapidity  I  went  downward.  At  any 
rate  the  speed  was  so  great  that  I  could  not 
put  my  head  out  of  the  machine  without 
being  pressed  back  by  the  rush  of  air. 

Soon  I  lost  sight  of  my  enemy.  I  had 
only  time  to  see  what  my  four  comrades 
were  doing  while  I  was  dropping  to  the 
ground.  They  were  still  fighting.  Their 
machine-guns  and  those  of  their  opponents 
could  be  heard.  Suddenly  I  notice  a  rocket. 
Is  it  a  signal  of  the  enemy?  No,  it  cannot 
be.  The  light  is  too  great  for  a  rocket.  Evi- 

This  is  a  mistaken  idea,  common  to  many  pilots  who  are  not 
tnotor  engineers.  Fire  in  such  cases  is  caused  by  petrol  or  petrol 
vapor  being  set  alight  by  a  spark  from  the  magneto,  which  because 
the  air-screw  is  still  revolving  continues  to  generate  sparks  in- 
ternally even  when  switched  off.  A  mere  red-hot  pipe  in  an  engine 
would  not  cause  petrol  fire. 

138 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

dently  a  machine  is  on  fire.  What  machine  ? 
The  burning  machine  looks  exactly  as  if  it 
were  one  of  our  own.  No !  Praise  the  Lord, 
it  is  one  of  the  enemy's !  Who  can  have  shot 
him  down?  Immediately  afterwards  a  sec- 
ond machine  drops  out  and  falls  perpendicu- 
larly to  the  ground,  turning,  turning,  turn- 
ing exactly  as  I  did,  but  suddenly  it  recovers 
its  balance.  It  flies  straight  towards  me. 
It  also  is  an  Albatros.  No  doubt  it  had  the 
same  experience  as  I  had. 

I  had  fallen  to  an  altitude  of  perhaps  one 
thousand  feet  and  had  to  look  out  for  a 
landing.  Now  such  a  sudden  landing  usu- 
ally leads  to  breakages  and  as  these  are  occa- 
sionally serious  it  was  time  to  look  out.  I 
found  a  meadow.  It  was  not  very  large  but 
it  just  sufficed  if  I  used  due  caution.  Be- 
sides it  was  favorably  situated  on  the  high 
road  near  Henin-Lietard.  There  I  meant  to 
land. 

Everything  went  as  desired  and  my  first 
thought  was,  "What  has  become  of  the  other 
fellow?"  He  landed  a  few  kilometers  from 
the  spot  where  I  had  come  to  the  ground. 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

I  had  ample  time  to  inspect  the  damage. 
My  machine  had  been  hit  a  number  of  times. 
The  shot  which  caused  me  to  give  up  the 
fight  had  gone  through  both  benzine  tanks.  I 
had  not  a  drop  of  benzine  left  and  the  engine 
itself  had  also  been  damaged  by  shots.  It 
was  a  pity  for  it  had  worked  so  well. 

I  let  my  legs  dangle  out  of  the  machine 
and  probably  made  a  very  silly  face.  In  a 
moment  I  was  surrounded  by  a  large  crowd 
of  soldiers.  Then  came  an  officer.  He  was 
quite  out  of  breath.  He  was  terribly  ex- 
cited !  No  doubt  something  fearful  had  hap- 
pened to  him.  He  rushed  towards  me, 
gasped  for  air  and  asked:  "I  hope  that 
nothing  has  happened  to  you.  I  have  fol- 
lowed the  whole  affair  and  am  terribly  ex- 
cited! Good  Lord,  it  looked  awful!"  I  as- 
sured him  that  I  felt  quite  well,  jumped  down 
from  the  side  of  my  machine  and  introduced 
myself  to  him.  Of  course  he  did  not  under- 
stand a  particle  of  my  name.  However,  he 
invited  me  to  go  in  his  motor  car  to  Henin- 
Lietard  where  he  was  quartered.  He  was 
an  Engineer  Officer. 

140 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

We  were  sitting  in  the  motor  and  were 
commencing  our  ride.  My  host  was  still 
extraordinarily  excited.  Suddenly  he  jumped 
up  and  asked :  "Good  Lord,  but  where  is  your 
chauffeur?"  At  first  I  did  not  quite  under- 
stand what  he  meant.  Probably  I  looked 
puzzled.  Then  it  dawned  upon  me  that  he 
thought  that  I  was  the  observer  of  a  two- 
seater  and  that  he  asked  after  the  fate  of 
my  pilot.  I  pulled  myself  together  and  said 
in  the  dryest  tones:  "I  always  drive  my- 
self." Of  course  the  word  "drive"  is  abso- 
lutely taboo  among  the  flying  men. 

An  aviator  does  not  drive,  he  flies.  In  the 
eyes  of  the  kind  gentleman  I  had  obviously 
lost  caste  when  he  discovered  that  I  "drove" 
my  own  aeroplane.  The  conversation  began 
to  slacken. 

We  arrived  in  his  quarters.  I  was  still 
dressed  in  my  dirty  and  oily  leather  jacket 
and  had  round  my  neck  a  thick  wrap.  On 
our  journey  he  had  of  course  asked  me  a 
tremendous  number  of  questions.  Alto- 
gether he  was  far  more  excited  than  I  was. 

When  we  got  to  his  diggings  he  forced 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

me  to  lie  down  on  the  sofa,  or  at  least  he 
tried  to  force  me  because,  he  argued,  I  was 
bound  to  be  terribly  done  up  through  my 
fight.  I  assured  him  that  this  was  not  my 
first  aerial  battle  but  he  did  not,  apparently, 
give  me  much  credence.  Probably  I  did  not 
look  very  martial. 

After  we  had  been  talking  for  some  time 
he  asked  me  of  course  the  celebrated  ques- 
tion: "Have  you  ever  brought  down  a  ma- 
chine?" As  I  said  before  he  had  probably 
not  understood  my  name.  So  I  answered 
nonchalantly:  "Oh,  yes!  I  have  done  so 
now  and  then."  He  replied:  "Indeed!  Per- 
haps you  have  shot  down  two?"  I  answered : 
"No.  Not  two  but  twenty-four."  He 
smiled,  repeated  his  question  and  gave  me 
to  understand  that,  when  he  was  speaking 
about  shooting  down  an  aeroplane,  he  meant 
not  shooting  at  an  aeroplane  but  shooting 
into  an  aeroplane  in  such  a  manner  that  it 
would  fall  to  the  ground  and  remain  there. 
I  immediately  assured  him  that  I  entirely 
shared  his  conception  of  the  meaning  of  the 
words  "shooting  down." 

142 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Now  I  had  completely  lost  caste  with  him. 
He  was  convinced  that  I  was  a  fearful  liar. 
He  left  me  sitting  where  I  was  and  told  me 
that  a  meal  would  be  served  in  an  hour.  If 
I  liked  I  could  join  in.  I  accepted  his  invita- 
tion and  slept  soundly  for  an  hour.  Then 
we  went  to  the  Officers'  Club.  Arrived  at 
the  club  I  was  glad  to  find  that  I  was  wear- 
ing the  Or  Are  pour  le  Merite. 

Unfortunately  I  had  no  uniform  jacket  un- 
derneath my  greasy  leather  coat  but  only  a 
waistcoat.  I  apologized  for  being  so  badly 
dressed.  Suddenly  my  good  chief  discov- 
ered on  me  the  Ordre  pour  le  Merite.  He 
was  speechless  with  surprise  and  assured  me 
that  he  did  not  know  my  name.  I  gave  him 
my  name  once  more.  Now  it  seemed  to  dawn 
upon  him  that  he  had  heard  my  name  before. 
He  feasted  me  with  oysters  and  champagne 
and  I  did  gloriously  until  at  last  my  orderly 
arrived  and  fetched  me  with  my  car.  I 
learned  from  him  that  comrade  Lubbert  had 
once  more  justified  his  nickname.  He  was 
generally  called  "the  bullet-catcher"  for  his 
machine  suffered  badly  in  every  fight.  Once 

143 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

it  was  hit  sixty-four  times.  Yet  he  had  not 
been  wounded.  This  time  he  had  received 
a  glancing  shot  on  the  chest  and  he  was  by 
this  time  in  hospital.  I  flew  his  machine  to 
port.  Unfortunately  this  excellent  officer, 
who  promised  to  become  another  Boelcke, 
died  a  few  weeks  later — a  hero's  death  for 
the  Fatherland. 

In  the  evening  I  could  assure  my  kind  host 
of  Henin-Lietard  that  I  had  increased  my 
"bag"  to  twenty-five. 


144 


A  Flying-Man's  Adventure. 
(End  of  March,  1917) 

HTHE  name  "Siegfried  position"  is  prob- 
*•  ably  known  to  every  young  man  in  Ger- 
many. During  the  time  when  we  withdrew 
towards  the  Siegfried  line  the  activity  in 
the  air  was  of  course  very  great.  We  al- 
lowed our  enemies  to  occupy  the  territory 
which  we  had  evacuated  but  we  did  not 
allow  them  to  occupy  the  air  as  well.  The 
chaser  squadron  which  Boelcke  had  trained 
looked  after  the  English  flying  men.  The 
English  had  hitherto  fought  a  war  of  posi- 
tion in  the  air  and  they  ventured  to  abandon 
it  for  a  war  of  movement  only  with  the  ut- 
most caution. 

That  was  the  time  when  Prince  Frederick 
Charles  gave  his  life  for  the  Fatherland. 
In  the  course  of  a  hunting  expedition  of 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

the  Boelcke  Chaser  Squadron,  Lieutenant 
Voss*  had  defeated  an  Englishman  in  an 
aerial  duel.  He  was  forced  to  go  down  to 
the  ground  and  landed  in  neutral  territory 
between  the  lines,  in  No  Man's  Land.  In 
this  particular  case  we  had  abandoned  a 
stretch  of  territory  but  the  enemy  had  not 
yet  occupied  it.  Only  English  and  German 
patrols  were  about  in  the  unoccupied  zone. 
The  English  flying  machine  was  standing 
between  the  two  lines.  Our  good  English- 
man probably  believed  that  the  ground  was 
already  in  English  possession  and  he  was 
justified  in  thinking  so. 

Lieutenant  Voss  was  of  a  different  opin- 
ion. Without  a  moment's  hesitation  he 
landed  close  to  his  victim.  With  great  rap- 
idity he  transferred  the  Englishman's  ma- 

•Voss  was  afterwards  shot  in  a  fight  by  the  late  Lieut.  Rhys- 
Davids,  D.  C.  O.,  M.  C.  In  this  fight,  which  is  said  to  have  been 
one  of  the  most  gallant  actions  in  the  war,  Voss  was  flying  a 
Fokker  triplane  with  a  French  le  Rhone  engine,  taken  out  of  a 
captured  machine.  He  was  attacked  by  six  British  S.  E.'s,  all 
faster  than  he  was.  His  solitary  companion,  on  an  Albatros,  was 
shot  down  at.  the  first  onset,  but  Voss,  instead  of  getting  away, 
as  he  could  have  done,  stayed  and  fought  the  crowd.  His  manoeuv- 
ering  and  shooting  are  said  to  have  been  wonderful.  Every  British 
machine  was  hit,  but  none  was  brought  down,  and  Voss  himself 
finally  fell  to  a  direct  attack  by  Rhys-Davids. 

I46 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

chine-guns  and  other  useful  things  to  his 
own  aeroplane,  took  a  match  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  English  machine  stood  in  flames. 
Then  he  waved  smilingly  from  his  victorious 
aeroplane  to  the  English  who  were  rushing 
along  from  all  sides  and  was  off. 

My  First  Double  Event 

'THE  second  of  April,  1917,  was  a  very 
warm  day  for  my  Squadron.  From  my 
quarters  I  could  clearly  hear  the  drum-fire 
of  the  guns  which  was  again  particularly 
violent. 

I  was  still  in  bed  when  my  orderly  rushed 
into  the  room  and  exclaimed:  "Sir,  the 
English  are  here !"  Sleepy  as  I  was,  I  looked 
out  of  the  window  and,  really,  there  were 
my  dear  friends  circling  over  the  flying 
ground.  I  jumped  out  of  my  bed  and  into 
my  clothes  in  a  jiffy.  My  Red  Bird  had  been 
pulled  out  and  was  ready  for  starting.  My 
mechanics  knew  that  I  should  probably  not 
allow  such  a  favorable  moment  to  go  by  un- 
utilized. Everything  was  ready.  I  snatched 
up  my  furs  and  then  went  off. 

147 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

I  was  the  last  to  start.  My  comrades  were 
much  nearer  to  the  enemy.  I  feared  that  my 
prey  would  escape  me,  that  I  should  have 
to  look  on  from  a  distance  while  the  others 
were  fighting.  Suddenly  one  of  the  imperti- 
nent fellows  tried  to  drop  down  upon  me. 
I  allowed  him  to  come  near  and  then  we 
started  a  merry  quadrille.  Sometimes  my 
opponent  flew  on  his  back  and  sometimes  he 
did  other  tricks.  He  had  a  double-seated 
chaser.  I  was  his  master  and  very  soon  I 
recognized  that  he  could  not  escape  me. 

During  an  interval  in  the  fighting  I  con- 
vinced myself  that  we  were  alone.  It  fol- 
lowed that  the  victory  would  accrue  to  him 
who  was  calmest,  who  shot  best  and  who 
had  the  clearest  brain  in  a  moment  of  dan- 
ger. After  a  short  time  I  got  him  beneath 
me  without  seriously  hurting  him  with  my 
gun.  We  were  at  least  two  kilometers  from 
the  front.  I  thought  he  intended  to  land  but 
there  I  had  made  a  mistake.  Suddenly, 
when  he  was  only  a  few  yards  above  the 
ground,  he  once  more  went  off  on  a  straight 
course.  He  tried  to  escape  me.  That  was 

148 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

too  bad.  I  attacked  him  again  and  I  went 
so  low  that  I  feared  I  should  touch  the  roofs 
of  the  houses  of  the  village  beneath  me. 
The  Englishman  defended  himself  up  to  the 
last  moment.  At  the  very  end  I  felt  that 
my  engine  had  been  hit.  Still  I  did  not  let 
go.  He  had  to  fall.  He  rushed  at  full  speed 
right  into  a  block  of  houses. 

There  was  little  left  to  be  done.  This  was 
once  more  a  case  of  splendid  daring.  He  de- 
fended himself  to  the  last.  However,  in  my 
opinion  he  showed  more  foolhardiness  than 
courage.  This  was  one  of  the  cases  where 
one  must  differentiate  between  energy  and 
idiocy.  He  had  to  come  down  in  any  case 
but  he  paid  for  his  stupidity  with  his  life. 

I  was  delighted  with  the  performance  of 
my  red  machine  during  its  morning  work 
and  returned  to  our  quarters.  My  comrades 
were  still  in  the  air  and  they  were  very 
surprised,  when,  as  we  met  at  breakfast, 
I  told  them  that  I  had  scored  my  thirty- 
second  machine. 

A  very  young  Lieutenant  had  "bagged" 
his  first  aeroplane.  We  were  all  very  merry 

149 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

and  prepared  everything  for  further  battles. 

I  then  went  and  groomed  myself.  I  had 
not  had  time  to  do  it  previously.  I  was 
visited  by  a  dear  friend,  Lieutenant  Voss  of 
Boelcke's  Squadron.  We  chatted.  Voss  had 
downed  on  the  previous  day  his  twenty-third 
machine.  He  was  next  to  me  on  the  list  and 
is  at  present  my  most  redoubtable  com- 
petitor. 

When  he  started  to  fly  home  I  offered  to 
accompany  him  part  of  the  way.  We  went 
on  a  roundabout  way  over  the  Fronts.  The 
weather  had  turned  so  bad  that  we  could 
not  hope  to  find  any  more  game. 

Beneath  us  there  were  dense  clouds.  Voss 
did  not  know  the  country  and  he  began  to 
feel  uncomfortable.  When  we  passed  above 
Arras  I  met  my  brother  who  also  is  in  my 
squadron  and  who  had  lost  his  way.  He 
joined  us.  Of  course  he  recognized  me  at 
once  by  the  color  of  my  machine. 

Suddenly  we  saw  a  squadron  approaching 
from  the  other  side.  Immediately  the 
thought  occurred  to  me:  "Now  comes  num- 
ber thirty-three."  Although  there  were  nine 

150 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

Englishmen  and  although  they  were  on  their 
own  territory  they  preferred  to  avoid  battle. 
I  thought  that  perhaps  it  would  be  better 
for  me  to  re-paint  my  machine.  Neverthe- 
less we  caught  them  up.  The  important 
thing  in  aeroplanes  is  that  they  are  speedy. 

I  was  nearest  to  the  enemy  and  attacked 
the  man  to  the  rear.  To  my  greatest  delight 
I  noticed  that  he  accepted  battle  and  my 
pleasure  was  increased  when  I  discovered 
that  his  comrades  deserted  him.  So  I  had 
once  more  a  single  fight. 

It  was  a  fight  similar  to  the  one  which  I 
had  had  in  the  morning.  My  opponent  did 
not  make  matters  easy  for  me.  He  knew  the 
fighting  business  and  it  was  particularly 
awkward  for  me  that  he  was  a  good  shot. 
To  my  great  regret  that  was  quite  clear  to 
me. 

A  favorable  wind  came  to  my  aid.  It  drove 
both  of  us  into  the  German  lines.*  My  oppo- 

*It  is  well  to  note  how  often  von  Richthofen  refers  to  the  wind 
being  in  his  favor.  A  west  wind  means  that  while  the  machines  are 
fighting  they  are  driven  steadily  over  the  German  lines.  Then, 
if  the  British  machine  happens  to  be  inferior  in  speed  or  manoeuv- 
erability  to  the  German,  and  ia  forced  down  low,  the  pilot  has  the 
choice  only  of  fighting  to  a  finish  and  being  killed,  or  of  landing 


THE     RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

nent  discovered  that  the  matter  was  not  so 
simple  as  he  had  imagined.  So  he  plunged 
and  disappeared  in  a  cloud.  He  had  nearly 
saved  himself. 

I  plunged  after  him  and  dropped  out  of 
the  cloud  and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  found 
myself  close  behind  him.  I  fired  and  he  fired 
without  any  tangible  result.  At  last  I  hit 
him.  I  noticed  a  ribbon  of  white  benzine 
vapor.  He  had  to  land  for  his  engine  had 
come  to  a  stop. 

He  was  a  stubborn  fellow.  He  was  bound 
to  recognize  that  he  had  lost  the  game.  If 
he  continued  shooting  I  could  kill  him,  for 
meanwhile  we  had  dropped  to  an  altitude 
of  about  nine  hundred  feet.  However,  the 
Englishman  defended  himself  exactly  as  did 
his  countryman  in  the  morning.  He  fought 
until  he  landed.  When  he  had  come  to  the 

and  being:  made  prisoner.  The  prevalence  of  west  winds  hat,  for 
this  reason,  cost  the  R.  F.  C.  a  very  great  number  of  casualties  in 
killed  and  missing,  who,  if  the  fight  had  occurred  over  territory 
held  by  the  British,  would  merely  have  landed  till  the  attacking 
machine  had  taken  itself  off.  For  similar  reasons,  the  fact  that 
the  R.  F.  C.  has  always  been  on  the  offensive,  and  so  has  always 
been  flying  over  the  German  lines  has  caused  many  casualties. 
Under  all  the  circumstances  it  is  surprising  that  the  R.  F.  C.  casu- 
alties have  not  been  •  great  deal  heavier. 

152 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

ground  I  flew  over  him  at  an  altitude  of 
about  thirty  feet  in  order  to  ascertain 
whether  I  had  killed  him  or  not.  What  did 
the  rascal  do?  He  took  his  machine-gun 
and  shot  holes  into  my  machine. 

Afterwards  Voss  told  me  if  that  had  hap- 
pened to  him  he  would  have  shot  the  airman 
on  the  ground.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  ought 
to  have  done  so  for  he  had  not  surrendered. 
He  was  one  of  the  few  fortunate  fellows 
who  escaped  with  their  lives. 

I  felt  very  merry,  flew  home  and  cele- 
brated my  thirty-third  aeroplane. 


153 


XI 
My  Record-Day 

'""PHE  weather  was  glorious.  We  were 
*•  ready  for  starting.  I  had  as  a  visitor  a 
gentleman  who  had  never  seen  a  fight  in  the 
air  or  anything  resembling  it  and  he  had  just 
assured  me  that  it  would  tremendously  in- 
terest him  to  witness  an  aerial  battle. 

We  climbed  into  our  machines  and 
laughed  heartily  at  our  visitor's  eagerness. 
Friend  Schafer*  thought  that  we  might  give 
him  some  fun.  We  placed  him  before  a  tele- 
scope and  off  we  went. 

The  day  began  well.  We  had  scarcely 
flown  to  an  altitude  of  six  thousand  feet 
when  an  English  squadron  of  five  machines 
was  seen  coming  our  way.  We  attacked 
them  by  a  rush  as  if  we  were  cavalry  and 

•Schafer  was  also  shot  by  Lieut.  Rhys-Davids,  R.  F.  C.,  later 
in  1917. 

154 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

the  hostile  squadron  lay  destroyed  on  the 
ground.  None  of  our  men  was  even 
wounded.  Of  our  enemies  three  had  plunged 
to  the  ground  and  two  had  come  down  in 
flames. 

The  good  fellow  down  below  was  not  a 
little  surprised.  He  had  imagined  that  the 
affair  would  look  quite  different,  that  it 
would  be  far  more  dramatic.  He  thought 
the  whole  encounter  had  looked  quite  harm- 
less until  suddenly  some  machines  came 
falling  down  looking  like  rockets.  I  have 
gradually  become  accustomed  to  seeing  ma- 
chines falling  down,  but  I  must  say  it  im- 
pressed me  very  deeply  when  I  saw  the  first 
Englishman  fall  and  I  have  often  seen  the 
event  again  in  my  dreams. 

As  the  day  had  begun  so  propitiously  we 
sat  down  and  had  a  decent  breakfast.  All 
of  us  were  as  hungry  as  wolves.  In  the 
meantime  our  machines  were  again  made 
ready  for  starting.  Fresh  cartridges  were 
got  and  then  we  went  off  again. 

In  the  evening  we  could  send  off  the  proud 
report:  "Six  German  machines  have  de- 

155 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

stroyed  thirteen  hostile  aeroplanes."* 
Boelcke's  Squadron  had  only  once  been 
able  to  make  a  similar  report.  At  that  time 
we  had  shot  down  eight  machines.  To-day 
one  of  us  had  brought  low  four  of  his  oppo- 
nents. The  hero  was  a  Lieutenant  Wolff, 
a  delicate-looking  little  fellow  in  whom  no- 
body could  have  suspected  a  redoubtable 
hero.  My  brother  had  destroyed  two,  Scha- 
fer  two,  Festner  two  and  I  three. 

We  went  to  bed  in  the  evening  tremend- 
ously proud  but  also  terribly  tired.  On  the 
following  day  we  read  with  noisy  approval 
about  our  deeds  of  the  previous  day  in  the 
official  communique.  On  the  next  day  we 
downed  eight  hostile  machines. 

A  very  amusing  thing  occurred.  One  of 
the  Englishmen  whom  we  had  shot  down 
and  whom  we  had  made  a  prisoner  was  talk- 
ing with  us.  Of  course  he  inquired  after  the 
Red  Aeroplane.  It  is  not  .unknown  even 

"It  it  possible  that  the  figure*  are  correct.  Early  in  1917, 
before  the  advent  of  the  British  fighters  and  de  Havilarids  in 
quantities,  the  R.  F.  C.  was  having  a  very  bad  time.  On  April  7, 
for  example,  it  was  reported  in  the  G.  H.  Q.  Communique  that 
twenty-eight  English  machines  were  missing. 

156 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

among  the  troops  in  the  trenches  and  is 
called  by  them  "le  diable  rouge."  In  the 
Squadron  to  which  he  belonged  there 
was  a  rumor  that  the  Red  Machine  was 
occupied  by  a  girl,  by  a  kind  of  Jeanne 
d'Arc.  He  was  intensely  surprised  when 
I  assured  him  that  the  supposed  girl  was 
standing  in  front  of  him.  He  did  not 
intend  to  make  a  joke.  He  was  actually 
convinced  that  only  a  girl  could  sit  in 
the  extravagantly  painted  machine. 


HE  most  beautiful  being  in  all  crea- 
tion  is  the  genuine  Danish  hound,  my 
little  lap-dog,  my  Moritz.  I  bought  him  in 
Ostend  from  a  brave  Belgian  for  five  marks. 
His  mother  was  a  beautiful  animal  and  one 
of  his  fathers  also  was  pure-bred.  I  am 
convinced  of  that.  I  could  select  one  of  the 
litter  and  I  chose  the  prettiest.  Zeumer  took 
another  puppy  and  called  it  Max. 

Max  came  to  a  sudden  end.  He  was  run 
over  by  a  motor  car.  Moritz  flourished  ex- 
ceedingly. He  slept  with  me  in  my  bed  and 

'57 


THE     RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

received  a  most  excellent  education.  He 
never  left  me  while  I  was  in  Ostend  and 
obtained  my  entire  affection.  Month  by 
month  Moritz  grew,  and  gradually  my  ten- 
der little  lap-dog  became  a  colossal,  big 
beast. 

Once  I  even  took  him  with  me.  He  was 
my  first  observer.  He  behaved  very  sens- 
ibly. He  seemed  much  interested  in  every- 
thing and  looked  at  the  world  from  above. 
Only  my  mechanics  were  dissatisfied  when 
they  had  to  clean  the  machine.  Afterwards 
Moritz  was  very  merry. 

Moritz  is  more  than  a  year  old  and  he  is 
still  as  child-like  as  if  he  were  still  in  his 
teens.  He  is  very  fond  of  playing  billiards. 
In  doing  this  he  has  destroyed  many  billiard 
balls  and  particularly  many  a  billiard  cloth. 
He  has  a  great  passion  for  the  chase.  My 
mechanics  are  highly  satisfied  with  his  sport- 
ing inclinations  for  he  has  caught  for  them 
many  a  nice  hare.  I  do  not  much  approve 
of  his  hunting  proclivities.  Consequently  he 
gets  a  whacking  if  I  catch  him  at  it. 

He  has  a  silly  peculiarity.     He  likes  to 

158 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

accompany  the  flying  machines  at  the  start. 
Frequently  the  normal  death  of  a  flying- 
man's  dog  is  death  from  the  propeller.  One 
day  he  rushed  in  front  of  a  flying-machine 
which  had  been  started.  The  aeroplane 
caught  him  up  and  a  beautiful  propeller 
was  smashed  to  bits.  Moritz  howled 
terribly  and  a  measure  which  I  had  hith- 
erto omitted  was  taken.  I  had  always 
refused  to  have  his  ears  cut.  One  of  his 
ears  was  cut  off  by  the  propeller.  A  long 
ear  and  a  short  ear  do  not  go  well  together. 
Moritz  has  taken  a  very  sensible  view  of 
the  world-war  and  of  our  enemies.  When  in 
the  summer  of  1916  he  saw  for  the  first  time 
Russian  natives — the  train  had  stopped  and 
Moritz  was  being  taken  for  a  walk — he 
chased  the  Russian  crowd  with  loud  bark- 
ing. He  has  no  great  opinion  of  French- 
men although  he  is,  after  all,  a  Belgian. 
Once,  when  I  had  settled  in  new  quarters,  I 
ordered  the  people  to  clean  the  house.  When 
I  came  back  in  the  evening  nothing  had  been 
done.  I  got  angry  and  asked  the  Frenchman 
to  come  and  see  me.  When  he  opened  the 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

door  Moritz  greeted  him  rather  brusquely. 
Immediately  I  understood  why  no  cleaning 
had  been  done. 

The  English  Attack  Our  Aerodrome 

IGHTS  in  which  the  full  moon  is  shin- 
ing  are  most  suitable  for  night  flying. 

During  the  full  moon  nights  of  the  month 
of  April  our  English  friends  were  particu- 
larly industrious.  This  was  during  the 
Battle  of  Arras.  Probably  they  had  found 
out  that  we  had  comfortably  installed  our- 
selves on  a  beautiful  large  flying  ground  at 
Douai. 

One  night  when  we  were  in  the  Officers' 
Mess  the  telephone  started  ringing  and  we 
were  told :  "The  English  are  coming."  There 
was  a  great  hullabaloo.  We  had  bomb- 
proof shelters.  They  had  been  got  ready  by 
our  excellent  Simon.  Simon  is  our  archi- 
tect, surveyor  and  builder. 

We  dived  down  into  shelter  and  we  heard 
actually,  at  first  a  very  gentle  humming  and 
then  the  noise  of  engines.  The  searchlights 


THE     RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

had  apparently  got  notice  at  the  same  time 
as  we,  for  they  started  getting  ready. 

The  nearest  enemy  was  still  too  far  away 
to  be  attacked.  We  were  colossally  merry. 
The  only  thing  we  feared  was  that  the  Eng- 
lish would  not  succeed  in  finding  our  aero- 
drome. To  find  some  fixed  spot  at  night  is 
by  no  means  easy.  It  was  particularly  diffi- 
cult to  find  us  because  our  aerodrome  was 
not  situated  on  an  important  highway  or 
near  water  or  a  railway,  by  which  one  can 
be  guided  during  one's  flight  at  night.*  The 
Englishmen  were  apparently  flying  at  a 
great  altitude.  At  first  they  circled  around 
our  entire  establishment.  We  began  to 
think  that  they  had  given  up  and  were  look- 
ing for  another  objective.  Suddenly  we  no- 
ticed that  the  nearest  one  had  switched  off 
his  engine.  So  he  was  coming  lower.  Wolff 
said:  "Now  the  matter  is  becoming  serious." 

We  had  two  carbines  and  began  shooting 
at  the  Englishman.  We  could  not  see  him. 

This  might  be  a  useful  hint  to  some  people  who  like  to  build 
repair  depots,  or  big  bombing:  aerodromes,  right  alongside  the 
sea  a  few  miles  behind  the  firing  line,  so  that  they  may  be  easily 
located  after  the  ghortett  possible  flight  by  the  most  inexperienced 
bombing  pilot. 

Jtfl 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Still  the  noise  of  our  shooting  was  a  sedative 
to  our  nerves. 

Suddenly  he  was  taken  up  by  the  search- 
lights. There  was  shouting  all  over  the  fly- 
ing ground.  Our  friend  was  sitting  in  a  pre- 
historic packing  case.*  We  could  clearly 
recognize  the  type.  He  was  half  a  mile 
away  from  us  and  was  flying  straight  to- 
wards us. 

He  went  lower  and  lower.  At  last  he  had 
come  down  to  an  altitude  of  about  three  hun- 
dred feet.  Then  he  started  his  engine  again 
and  came  straight  towards  the  spot  where 
we  were  standing. 

Wolff  thought  that  he  took  an  interest  in 
the  other  side  of  our  establishment  and  be- 
fore long  the  first  bomb  fell  and  it  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  number  of  other  missiles. 

Our  friend  amused  us  with  very  pretty 
fireworks.  They  could  have  frightened  only 
a  coward.  Broadly  speaking,  I  find  that 
bomb-throwing  at  night  has  only  a  moral 
effect.  Those  who  are  easily  frightened  are 

•One  assumes  that  the  reference  is  to  the  ancient  F.  E.  2b. 
"pusher"  biplane,  which,  though  produced  in  1915,  was  still  used 
for  night  bombing  up  till  well  on  in  1918. 

162 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

strongly  affected  when  bombs  fall  at  night. 
The  others  don't  care. 

We  were  much  amused  at  the  English- 
man's performance  and  thought  the  English 
would  come  quite  often  on  a  visit.  The  fly- 
ing piano  dropped  its  bombs  at  last  from 
an  altitude  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet. 
That  was  rather  impertinent  for  in  a  moon- 
lit night  I  think  I  can  hit  a  wild  pig  at  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  with  a  rifle.  Why 
then  should  I  not  succeed  in  hitting  the  Eng- 
lishman? It  would  have  been  a  novelty  to 
down  an  English  airman  from  the  ground. 

From  above  I  had  already  had  the  honor 
of  downing  a  number  of  Englishmen,  but  I 
had  never  tried  to  tackle  an  aviator  from 
below. 

When  the  Englishman  had  gone  we  went 
back  to  mess  and  discussed  among  ourselves 
how  we  should  receive  the  English  should 
they  pay  us  another  visit  on  the  following 
night.  In  the  course  of  the  next  day  our 
orderlies  and  other  fellows  were  made  to 
work  with  great  energy.  They  had  to  ram 
into  the  ground  piles  which  were  to  be  used 

163 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

as  a  foundation  for  machine  guns  during  the 
coming  night. 

We  went  to  the  butts  and  tried  the  Eng- 
lish machine  guns  which  we  had  taken  from 
the  enemy,  arranged  the  sights  for  night 
shooting  and  were  very  curious  as  to  what 
was  going  to  happen.  I  will  not  betray  the 
number  of  our  machine  guns.  Anyhow,  they 
were  to  be  sufficient  for  the  purpose.  Every- 
one of  my  officers  was  armed  with  one. 

We  were  again  sitting  at  mess.  Of  course 
we  were  discussing  the  problem  of  night 
fliers.  Suddenly  an  orderly  rushed  in  shout- 
ing: "They  are  there!  They  are  there!"  and 
disappeared  in  the  next  bomb-proof  in  his 
scanty  attire.  We  all  rushed  to  our  ma- 
chine guns.  Some  of  the  men  who  were 
known  to  be  good  shots,  had  also  been  given 
a  machine  gun.  All  the  rest  were  provided 
with  carbines.  The  whole  squadron  was 
armed  to  the  teeth  to  give  a  warm  recep- 
tion to  our  kindly  visitors. 

The  first  Englishman  arrived,  exactly  as 
on  the  previous  evening,  at  a  very  great  alti- 
tude. He  went  then  down  to  one  hundred 

164 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

and  fifty  feet  and  to  our  greatest  joy  began 
making  for  the  place  where  our  barracks 
were.  He  got  into  the  glare  of  the  search- 
light. 

When  he  was  only  three  hundred  yards 
away  someone  fired  the  first  shot  and  all  the 
rest  of  us  joined  in.  A  rush  of  cavalry  or 
of  storming  troops  could  not  have  been  met 
more  efficiently  than  the  attack  of  that  single 
impertinent  individual  flying  at  one  hundred 
and  fifty  feet. 

Quick  firing  from  many  guns  received 
him.  Of  course  he  could  not  hear  the  noise 
of  the  machine  guns.  The  roar  of  his  motor 
prevented  that.  However,  he  must  have 
seen  the  flashes  of  our  guns.  Therefore  I 
thought  it  tremendously  plucky  that  our 
man  did  not  swerve,  but  continued  going 
straight  ahead  in  accordance  with  his  plan.* 

At  the  moment  he  was  perpendicularly 
above  us  we  jumped  quickly  into  our  bomb 


"This  description  is  typical  of  what  these  extraordinary  night- 
flying  pilots  do  with  their  ancient  "flying  pianos"  night  after 
night,  when  the  weather  is  reasonable.  Von  Richthofen's  generous 
admiration  is  thoroughly  well  deserved. 

165 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

proof.  It  would  have  been  too  silly  for  fly- 
ing men  to  die  by  a  rotten  bomb. 

As  soon  as  he  had  passed  over  our  heads 
we  rushed  out  again  and  fired  after  him 
with  our  machine  guns  and  rifles. 

Friend  Schafer  asserted  that  he  had  hit 
the  man.  Schafer  is  quite  a  good  shot.  Still, 
in  this  case  I  did  not  believe  him.  Besides, 
everyone  of  us  had  as  good  a  chance  at  mak- 
ing a  hit  as  he  had. 

We  had  achieved  something,  for  the 
enemy  had  dropped  his  bombs  rather  aim- 
lessly owing  to  our  shooting.  One  of  them, 
it  is  true,  had  exploded  only  a  few  yards 
from  the  "petit  rouge,"  but  had  not  hurt 
him. 

During  the  night  the  fun  recommenced 
several  times.  I  was  already  in  bed,  fast 
asleep,  when  I  heard  in  a  dream  anti-aircraft 
firing.  I  woke  up  and  discovered  that  the 
dream  was  reality.  One  of  the  Englishmen 
flew  at  so  low  an  altitude  over  my  habitation 
that  in  my  fright  I  pulled  the  blanket  over 
my  head.  The  next  moment  I  heard  an  in- 
credible bang  just  outside  my  window.  The 

1 66 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

panes  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  bomb.  I 
rushed  out  of  my  room  in  my  shirt  in  order 
to  fire  a  few  shots  after  him.  They  were 
firing  from  everywhere.  Unfortunately,  I 
had  overslept  my  opportunity. 

The  next  morning  we  were  extremely  sur- 
prised and  delighted  to  discover  that  we  had 
shot  down  from  the  ground  no  fewer  than 
three  Englishmen.  They  had  landed  not  far 
from  our  aerodrome  and  had  been  made 
prisoners. 

As  a  rule  we  had  hit  the  engines  and  had 
forced  the  airmen  to  come  down  on  our  side 
of  the  Front.  After  all,  Schafer  was  pos- 
sibly right  in  his  assertion.  At  any  rate,  we 
were  very  well  satisfied  with  our  success. 
The  English  were  distinctly  less  satisfied  for 
they  preferred  avoiding  our  base.  It  was  a 
pity  that  they  gave  us  a  wide  berth,  for  they 
gave  us  lots  of  fun.  Let  us  hope  that  they 
come  back  to  us  next  month. 


167 


XII 
Schafer  Lands  Between  the  Lines 

VX7E  went  on  a  shooting  expedition  on  the 
*^  twentieth   of  April.     We   came   home 
very  late  and  lost  Schafer  on  the  way. 

Of  course  everyone  hoped  that  he  would 
come  to  hand  before  dark.  It  struck  nine, 
it  struck  ten,  but  no  Schafer  was  visible.  His 
benzine  could  not  last  so  long.  Conse- 
quently, he  had  landed  somewhere,  for  no 
one  was  willing  to  admit  that  he  had  been 
shot  down.  No  one  dared  to  mention  the 
possibility.  Still,  everyone  was  afraid  for 
him. 

The  ubiquitous  telephone  was  set  in  mo- 
tion in  order  to  find  out  whether  a  flying 
man  had  come  down  anywhere.  Nobody 
could  give  us  information.  No  Division  and 
no  Brigade  had  seen  anything  of  him.  We 

168 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

felt  very  uncomfortable.  At  last  we  went  to 
bed.  All  of  us  were  perfectly  convinced 
that  he  would  turn  up  in  the  end. 

At  two  o'clock,  after  midnight,  I  was  sud- 
denly awakened.  The  telephone  orderly, 
beaming  with  pleasure,  reported  to  me: 
"Schafer  is  in  the  Village  of  Y.  and  would 
like  to  be  fetched  home." 

The  next  morning  when  we  were  sitting 
at  breakfast  the  door  opened  and  my  dear 
pilot  stood  before  me.  His  clothes  were  as 
filthy  as  those  of  an  infantryman  who  has 
fought  at  Arras  for  a  fortnight.  He  was 
greeted  with  a  general  Hurrah !  Schafer  was 
tremendously  happy  and  elated  and  tremend- 
ously excited  about  his  adventure.  When 
he  had  finished  his  breakfast  he  told  us  the 
following  tale : 

"I  was  flying  along  the  front  intending  to 
return  home.  Suddenly  I  noticed  far  below 
me  something  that  looked  like  an  infantry 
flier.  I  attacked  him,  shot  him  down,  and 
meant  to  fly  back.  However,  the  English  in 
the  trenches  did  not  mean  me  to  get  away 
and  started  peppering  me  like  anything.  My 

169 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

salvation  lay  in  the  rapidity  of  my  machine, 
for  those  rascals,  of  course,  would  forget 
that  they  had  to  aim  far  in  front  of  me  if 
they  wished  to  hit  me. 

"I  was  at  an  altitude  of  perhaps  six  hun- 
dred feet.  Suddenly,  I  heard  a  smash  and 
my  engine  stopped  running.  There  was 
nothing  to  do  but  to  land.  I  asked  myself 
whether  I  should  be  able  to  get  away  from 
the  English  position.  It  seemed  very  ques- 
tionable. The  English  noticed  my  predica- 
ment and  started  shooting  like  mad. 

"As  my  engine  was  no  longer  running  I 
could  hear  every  single  shot.  The  position 
became  awkward.  I  came  down  and  landed. 
Before  my  machine  had  come  to  a  standstill 
they  squirted  upon  me  heaps  of  bullets  from 
machine  guns  in  the  hedge  of  the  village  of 
Monchy  near  Arras.  My  machine  became 
splashed  with  bullets. 

"I  jumped  out  of  it  and  down  into  the 
first  shell  hole.  Squatting  there  I  reflected 
and  tried  to  realize  exactly  where  I  was. 
Gradually  it  became  clear  to  me  that  I  had 
landed  outside  the  English  lines,  but  curs- 

170 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

edly  near  them.  Happily  it  was  rather  late 
in  the  evening  and  that  was  my  salvation. 

"Before  long  the  first  shell  came  along. 
Of  course  they  were  gas  shells  and  I  had  no 
mask  with  me.  My  eyes  started  watering 
like  anything.  Before  darkness  set  in  the 
English  ascertained  the  distance  of  the  spot 
where  I  had  landed  with  machine  guns.  Part 
of  them  aimed  at  my  machine  and  part  at 
my  shell  crater.  The  bullets  constantly  hit 
its  rim. 

"In  order  to  quiet  my  nerves  I  lit  a  cigar- 
ette. Then  I  took  off  my  heavy  fur  coat  and 
prepared  everything  for  a  leap  and  a  run. 
Every  minute  seemed  to  me  an  hour. 

"Gradually  it  became  dark,  but  only  very 
gradually.  Around  me  I  heard  partridges 
giving  a  concert.  As  an  experienced  shot  I 
recognized  from  their  voices  that  they  felt 
quite  happy  and  contented,  that  there  was 
no  danger  of  my  being  surprised  in  my  hid- 
ing place. 

"At  last  it  became  quite  dark.  Suddenly 
and  quite  close  to  me  a  couple  of  partridges 
flew  up.  A  second  couple  followed.  It  was 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

obvious  that  danger  was  approaching.  No 
doubt  a  patrol  was  on  the  way  to  wish  me 
a  happy  evening. 

"I  had  no  time  to  lose.  Now  or  never. 
First  I  crept  very  cautiously  on  my  chest 
from  shell  hole  to  shell  hole.  After  creeping 
industriously  for  about  an  hour  and  a  half 
I  noticed  I  was  nearing  humans.  Were  they 
English  or  were  they  Germans  ?  They  came 
nearer  and  I  could  almost  have  fallen  round 
their  necks,  when  I  discovered  our  own 
musketeers.  They  were  a  German  patrol 
who  were  nosing  about  in  No  Man's  Land. 

"One  of  the  men  conducted  me  to  the  Com- 
mander of  his  Company.  I  was  told  that  in 
the  evening  I  had  landed  about  fifty  yards 
in  front  of  the  enemy  lines  and  that  our  in- 
fantry had  given  me  up  for  lost.  I  had  a 
good  supper  and  then  I  started  on  my  way 
home.  Behind  me  there  was  far  more  shoot- 
ing than  in  front  of  me.  Every  path,  every 
trench,  every  bush,  every  hollow,  was 
under  enemy  fire.  The  English  attacked  on 
the  next  morning,  and  consequently,  they 
had  to  begin  their  artillery  preparation  the 

172 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

evening  before.  So  I  had  chosen  an  unfav- 
orable day  for  my  enterprise.  I  reached  the 
first  telephone  only  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning  when  I  'phoned  to  the  Squadron." 
We  were  all  very  happy  to  have  our  Scha- 
fer  again  with  us.  He  went  to  bed.  Any 
other  man  would  have  taken  a  rest  from 
flying  for  twenty-four  hours.  But  on  the 
afternoon  of  this  very  day  friend  Schafer 
attacked  a  low  flying  B.  E.  above  Monchy. 

The  Anti-Richthofen  Squadron 

HP  HE  English  had  hit  upon  a  splendid  joke. 
*  They  intended  to  catch  me  or  to  bring 
me  down.  For  that  purpose  they  had  actu- 
ally organized  a  special  squadron  which  flew 
about  in  that  part  which  we  frequented  as 
a  rule.  We  discovered  its  particular  aim  by 
the  fact  that  its  aggressive  activity  was 
principally  directed  against  our  red  ma- 
chines. 

I  would  say  that  all  the  machines  of  the 
squadron  had  been  painted  red  because  our 
English  friends  had  by-and-by  perceived  that 
I  was  sitting  in  a  blood-red  band-box.  Sud- 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

denly  there  were  quite  a  lot  of  red  machines 
and  the  English  opened  their  eyes  wide  when 
one  fine  day  they  saw  a  dozen  red  barges 
steaming  along  instead  of  a  single  one.  Our 
new  trick  did  not  prevent  them  from  making 
an  attempt  at  attacking  us.  I  preferred  their 
new  tactics.  It  is  better  that  one's  custom- 
ers come  to  one's  shop  than  to  have  to  look 
for  them  abroad. 

We  flew  to  the  front  hoping  to  find  our 
enemy.  After  about  twenty  minutes  the 
first  arrived  and  attacked  us.  That  had  not 
happened  to  us  for  a  long  time.  The  English 
had  abandoned  their  celebrated  offensive 
tactics  to  some  extent.  They  had  found  them 
somewhat  too  expensive. 

Our  aggressors  were  three  Spad  one- 
seater  machines.  Their  occupants  thought 
themselves  very  superior  to  us- because  of 
the  excellence  of  their  apparatus.  Wolff,  my 
brother  and  I,  were  flying  together.  We 
were  three  against  three.  That  was  as  it 
ought  to  be. 

Immediately  at  the  beginning  of  the  en- 
counter the  aggressive  became  a  defensive. 

174 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Our  superiority  became  clear.  I  tackled  my 
opponent  and  could  see  how  my  brother  and 
Wolff  handled  each  his  own  enemy.  The 
usual  waltzing  began.  We  were  circling 
around  one  another.  A  favorable  wind  came 
to  our  aid.  It  drove  us,  fighting,  away  from 
the  front  in  the  direction  of  Germany. 

My  man  was  the  first  who  fell  down.  I 
suppose  I  had  smashed  up  his  engine.  At 
any  rate,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  land.  I  no 
longer  gave  pardon  to  him.  Therefore,  I 
attacked  him  a  second  time  and  the  conse- 
quence was  that  his  whole  machine  went 
to  pieces.  His  planes  dropped  off  like  pieces 
of  paper  and  the  body  of  the  machine  fell 
like  a  stone,  burning  fiercely.  It  dropped 
into  a  morass.  It  was  impossible  to  dig  it  out 
and  I  have  never  discovered  the  name  of  my 
opponent.  He  had  disappeared.  Only  the 
end  of  the  tail  was  visible  and  marked  the 
place  where  he  had  dug  his  own  grave. 

Simultaneously  with  me,  Wolff  and  my 
brother  had  attacked  their  opponents  and 
hsud  forced  them  to  land  not  far  from  my 
victim. 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

We  were  very  happy  and  flew  home  and 
hoped  that  the  anti-Richthofen  Squadron 
would  often  return  to  the  fray.* 

We  Are  Visited  By  My  Father 
Y  father  had  announced  that  he  would 
visit  his  two  sons  on  the  twenty- 
ninth  of  April.  My  father  is  commander  of 
a  little  town  in  the  vicinity  of  Lille.  There- 
fore he  does  not  live  very  far  away  from  us. 
I  have  occasionally  seen  him  on  my  flights. 

He  intended  to  arrive  by  train  at  nine 
o'clock.  At  half  past  nine  he  came  to  our 
aerodrome.  We  just  happened  to  have  re- 
turned from  an  expedition.  My  brother  was 
the  first  to  climb  out  of  his  machine,  and 
he  greeted  the  old  gentleman  with  the 
words :  "Good  day,  Father.  I  have  just  shot 
down  an  Englishman."  Immediately  after, 
I  also  climbed  out  of  my  machine  and 
greeted  him  "Good  day,  Father,  I  have  just 
shot  down  an  Englishman."  The  old  gentle- 
man felt  very  happy  and  he  was  delighted. 

•One  can  find  no  trace  of  any  deliberate  attempt  to  organize 
an  anti-Richthofen  Circus  in  the  R.  F.  C.,  and  therefore  one 
assumes  that  these  were  merely  three  gallant  lads  on  new  type 
Spads  who  went  out  deliberately  on  their  own  account  to  look  for 
trouble,  and  found  more  than  they  expected. 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

That  was  obvious.  He  is  not  one  of  those 
fathers  who  are  afraid  for  their  sons.  I 
think  he  would  like  best  to  get  into  a  ma- 
chine himself  and  help  us  shoot.  We  break- 
fasted with  him  and  then  we  went  flying 
again. 

In  the  meantime,  an  aerial  fight  took 
place  above  our  aerodrome.  My  father 
looked  on  and  was  greatly  interested.  We 
did  not  take  a  hand  in  the  fight  for  we  were 
standing  on  the  ground  and  looked  on  our- 
selves. 

An  English  squadron  had  broken  through 
and  was  being  attacked  above  our  aerodrome 
by  some  of  our  own  reconnoitering  aero- 
planes. Suddenly  one  of  the  machines 
started  turning  over  and  over.  Then  it  re- 
covered itself  and  came  gliding  down  nor- 
mally. We  saw,  with  regret  this  time,  that  it 
was  a  German  machine. 

The  Englishman  flew  on.  The  German 
aeroplane  had  apparently  been  damaged.  It 
was  quite  correctly  handled.  It  came  down 
and  tried  to  land  on  our  flying  ground.  The 
room  was  rather  narrow  for  the  large  ma- 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

chine.  Besides,  the  ground  was  unfamiliar 
to  the  pilot.  Hence,  the  landing  was  not 
quite  smooth.  We  ran  towards  the  aero- 
plane and  discovered  with  regret  that  one 
of  the  occupants  of  the  machine,  the  ma- 
chine gunner,  had  been  killed.  The  spec- 
tacle was  new  to  my  father.  It  made  him 
serious. 

The  day  promised  to  be  a  favorable  one 
for  us.  The  weather  was  wonderfully  clear. 
The  anti-aircraft  guns  were  constantly 
audible.  Obviously,  there  was  much  aircraft 
about. 

Towards  mid-day  we  flew  once  more. 
This  time,  I  was  again  lucky  and  shot  down 
my  second  Englishman  of  the  day.  The  Gov- 
ernor recovered  his  good  spirits. 

After  the  mid-day  dinner  I  slept  a  little.  I 
was  again  quite  fresh.  Wolff  had  fought  the 
enemy  in  the  meantime  with  his  group  of 
machines  and  hatd  himself  bagged  an  enemy. 
Schafer  also  had  eaten  one.  In  the  after- 
noon my  brother  and  I  accompanied  by  Scha- 
fer, Festner  and  Allmenroder  flew  twice 
more. 

178 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

The  first  afternoon  flight  was  a  failure. 
The  second  was  all  the  better.  Soon  after 
we  had  come  to  the  front  a  hostile  squadron 
met  us.  Unfortunately  they  occupied  a 
higher  altitude  so  we  could  not  do  anything. 
We  tried  to  climb  to  their  level  but  did  not 
succeed.  We  had  to  let  them  go.* 

We  flew  along  the  front.  My  brother  was 
next  to  me,  in  front  of  the  others.  Suddenly 
I  noticed  two  hostile  artillery  fliers  ap- 
proaching our  front  in  the  most  impertinent 
and  provocative  manner.  I  waved  to  my 
brother  and  he  understood  my  meaning.  We 
flew  side  by  side  increasing  our  speed.  Each 
of  us  felt  certain  that  he  was  superior  to  the 
enemy.  It  was  a  great  thing  that  we  could 
absolutely  rely  on  one  another  and  that  was 
the  principal  thing.  One  has  to  know  one's 
flying  partner. 

My  brother  was  the  first  to  approach  his 
enemy.  He  attacked  the  first  and  I  took  care 
of  the  second.  At  the  last  moment  I  quickly 
looked  round  in  order  to  feel  sure  that  there 
was  no  third  aeroplane  about.  We  were 

•This  appears  to  be  the  first  admission  that  the  newer  British 
machines  could  out-climb  the  famous  Albatros  chasers. 

179 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

alone  and  could  see  eye  to  eye.  Soon  I  had 
got  on  the  favorable  side  of  my  opponent.  A 
short  spell  of  quick  firing  and  the  enemy  ma- 
chine went  to  pieces.  I  never  had  a  more 
rapid  success. 

While  I  was  still  looking  where  my  ene- 
my's fragments  were  falling,  I  noticed  my 
brother.  He  was  scarcely  five  hundred  yards 
away  from  me  and  was  still  fighting  his  op- 
ponent. 

I  had  time  to  study  the  struggle  and  must 
say  that  I  myself  could  not  have  done  any 
better  than  he  did.  He  had  rushed  his  man 
and  both  were  turning  around  one  another. 
Suddenly,  the  enemy  machine  reared.  That 
is  a  certain  indication  of  a  hit.  Probably  the 
pilot  was  shot  in  the  head.  The  machine 
fell  and  the  planes  of  the  enemy  apparatus 
went  to  pieces.  They  fell  quite  close  to  my 
victim.  I  flew  towards  my  brother  and  we 
congratulated  one  another  by  waving.  We 
were  highly  satisfied  with  our  performance 
and  flew  off.  It  is  a  splendid  thing  when  one 
can  fly  together  with  one's  brother  and  do 
so  well. 

1 80 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

In  the  meantime,  the  other  fellows  of  the 
squadron  had  drawn  near  and  were  watch- 
ing the  spectacle  of  the  fight  of  the  two 
brothers.  Of  course  they  could  not  help  us, 
for  only  one  man  can  shoot  down  an  oppo- 
nent. If  one  airman  has  tackled  his  enemy 
the  others  cannot  assist.  They  can  only  look 
on  and  protect  his  back.  Otherwise,  he 
might  be  attacked  in  the  rear. 

We  flew  on  and  went  to  a  higher  altitude, 
for  there  was  apparently  a  meeting  some- 
where in  the  air  for  the  members  of  the  Anti- 
Richthofen  Club.  They  could  recognize  us 
from  far  away.  In  the  powerful  sunlight, 
the  beautiful  red  color  of  our  machines  could 
be  seen  at  a  long  distance. 

We  closed  our  ranks  for  we  knew  that  our 
English  friends  pursued  the  same  business 
as  we.  Unfortunately,  they  were  again  too 
high.  So  we  had  to  wait  for  their  attack. 
The  celebrated  triplanes  and  Spads  were  per- 
fectly new  machines.  However,  the  quality 
of  the  box  matters  little.  Success  depends 
upon  the  man  who  sits  in  it.  The  English 
airmen  played  a  cautious  game  but  would 

181 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

not  bite.  We  offered  to  fight  them,  either 
on  one  side  of  the  front  or  on  the  other.  But 
they  said :  No,  thank  you.  What  is  the  good 
of  bringing  out  a  squadron  against  us  and 
then  turning  tail?* 

At  last,  one  of  the  men  plucked  up  cour- 
age and  dropped  down  upon  our  rear  ma- 
chine. Naturally  battle  was  accepted  al- 
though our  position  was  unfavorable.  If 
you  wish  to  do  business  you  must,  after  all, 
adapt  yourself  to  the  desires  of  your  cus- 
tomers. Therefore  we  all  turned  round. 
The  Englishman  noticed  what  was  going  on 
and  got  away.  The  battle  had  begun. 

Another  Englishman  tried  a  similar  trick 
on  me  and  I  greeted  him  at  once  with  quick 
fire  from  my  two  machine  guns.  He  tried 
to  escape  me  by  dropping  down.  That  was 
fatal  to  him.  When  he  got  beneath  me  I 
remained  on  top  of  him.  Everything  in  the 
air  that  is  beneath  me,  especially  if  it  is  a 
one-seater,  a  chaser,  is  lost,  for  it  cannot 
shoot  to  the  rear. 

The  probability  is  that  the  British,  machines  being  high  up, 
and  watching  the  sky  all  round,  did  not  notice  the  little  red 
machines  against  the  dark  ground  below  them  for  some  time. 

182 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

My  opponent  had  a  very  good  and  very 
fast  machine.  However,  he  did  not  succeed 
in  reaching  the  English  lines.  I  began  to 
fire  at  him  when  we  were  above  Lens.  I 
started  shooting  when  I  was  much  too  far 
away.  That  was  merely  a  trick  of  mine.  I 
did  not  mean  so  much  to  hit  him  as  to 
frighten  him,  and  I  succeeded  in  catching 
him.  He  began  flying  curves  and  this  en- 
abled me  to  draw  near.  I  tried  the  same 
manoeuver  a  second  and  a  third  time. 
Everytime  my  foolish  friend  started  making 
his  curves  I  gradually  edged  quite  close  to 
him. 

I  approached  him  almost  to  touching  dis- 
tance. I  aimed  very  carefully.  I  waited  a 
moment  and  when  I  was  at  most  at  a  dis- 
tance of  fifty  yards  from  him  I  started  with 
both  the  machine  guns  at  the  same  time.  I 
heard  a  slight  hissing  noise,  a  certain  sign 
that  the  benzine  tanks  had  been  hit.  Then 
I  saw  a  bright  flame  and  my  lord  disap- 
peared below. 

This  was  the  fourth  victim  of  the  day. 
My  brother  had  bagged  two.  Apparently, 

183 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

we  had  invited  our  father  to  a  treat.  His 
joy  was  wonderful. 

I  had  invited  several  gentlemen  for  the 
evening.  Among  these  was  my  dear  Wedel 
who  happened  to  be  in  the  neighborhood. 
We  had  a  great  treat.  The  two  brothers 
had  bagged  six  Englishmen  in  a  single  day. 
That  is  a  whole  flying  squadron.* 

I  believe  the  English  cease  to  feel  any 
sympathy  for  us.** 

/  Fly  Home 

T  HAD  shot  down  fifty  aeroplanes.  That 
*  was  a  good  number  but  I  would  have 
preferred  fifty-two.  So  I  went  up  one  day 
and  had  another  two,  although  it  was 
against  orders. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  I  had  been  allowed  to 
bag  only  forty-one.  Anyone  will  be  able  to 
guess  why  the  number  was  fixed  at  forty- 

*A  whole  squadron  it  eighteen  machine*,  divided  into  three 
"flights"  of  six  machines  each.  The  word  squadron  does  not, 
apparently,  translate  exactly  into  German. 

••Nevertheless,  some  months  after  this,  a  young  British  pilot 
was  being  entertained  one  evening  by  his  squadron  in  celebration 
of  his  having  been  awarded  the  D.  S.  O.,  and  when  called  upon 
for  a  speech  proposed  the  health  of  von  Richtbofen.  And  the  squad- 
ron duly  honored  the  toast. 

184 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

one.  Just  for  that  reason  I  wanted  to  avoid 
that  figure.  I  am  not  out  for  breaking  rec- 
ords. Besides,  generally  speaking,  we  of  the 
Flying  Corps  do  not  think  of  records  at  all. 
We  merely  think  of  our  duty.  Boelcke  might 
have  shot  down  a  hundred  aeroplanes  but 
for  his  accident,  and  many  others  of  our  dear 
dead  comrades  might  have  vastly  increased 
their  bag  but  for  their  sudden  death.  Still, 
it  is  some  fun  to  have  downed  half  a  hundred 
aeroplanes.  After  all,  I  had  succeeded  in 
obtaining  permission  to  bring  down  fifty  ma- 
chines before  going  on  leave. 

I  hope  that  I  may  live  to  celebrate  a  second 
lot  of  fifty. 

In  the  evening  of  that  particular  day  the 
telephone  bell  was  ringing.  Headquarters 
wished  to  speak  to  me.  It  seemed  to  me  the 
height  of  fun  to  be  connected  with  the  holy 
of  holies. 

Over  the  wire  they  gave  me  the  cheerful 
news  that  His  Majesty  had  expressed  the 
wish  to  make  my  personal  acquaintance  and 
had  fixed  the  date  for  me.  I  had  to  make 
an  appearance  on  the  second  of  May.  The 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

notification  reached  me  on  the  thirtieth  of 
April  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening.  I  should 
not  have  been  able  to  fulfil  the  wish  of  our 
All-Highest  War-Lord  by  taking  the  train. 
I  therefore  thought  I  would  travel  by  air, 
especially  as  that  mode  of  locomotion  is  far 
pleasanter.  I  started  the  next  morning,  not 
in  my  single-seater  "le  petit  rouge"  but  in 
a  big  fat  double-seater. 

I  took  a  seat  at  the  rear,  not  at  the  sticks. 
The  man  who  had  to  do  the  flying  was  Lieut. 
Krefft,  one  of  the  officers  of  my  squadron. 
He  was  just  going  on  furlough  to  recover 
his  strength,  so  that  it  suited  him  admirably 
to  act  as  my  pilot.  He  reached  home  more 
quickly  traveling  by  air  and  he  preferred 
the  trip  by  aeroplane. 

I  started  on  the  journey  rather  hastily. 
The  only  luggage  which  I  took  with  me  was 
my  tooth-brush.  Therefore,  I  had  to  dress 
for  the  journey  in  the  clothes  in  which  I  was 
to  appear  at  Headquarters.  Now,  a  soldier 
does  not  carry  with  him  many  beautiful 
uniforms  when  he  goes  to  war  and  the  scarc- 
ity of  nice  clothes  is  particularly  great  in 

186 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

the  case  of  such  a  poor  front  hog  as  my- 
self. 

My  brother  undertook  the  command  of 
the  aeroplane  squadron  in  my  absence.  I 
took  leave  with  a  few  words  for  I  hoped  soon 
to  recommence  my  work  among  those  dear 
fellows. 

The  flight  went  via  Namur,  Liege,  Aix  la 
Chapelle  and  Cologne.  It  was  lovely  for 
once  to  sail  through  the  air  without  any 
thoughts  of  war.  The  weather  was  won- 
derful. We  had  rarely  had  such  a  perfect 
time.  Probably  the  men  at  the  front  would 
be  extremely  busy. 

Soon  our  own  captive  balloons  were  lost 
to  sight.  The  thunder  of  the  Battle  of  Arras 
was  only  heard  in  the  distance.  Beneath  us 
all  was  peace.  We  saw  steamers  on  the 
rivers  and  fast  trains  on  the  railways.  We 
easily  overtook  everything  below.  The  wind 
was  in  our  favor.  The  earth  seemed  as  flat 
as  a  threshing  floor.  The  beautiful  moun- 
tains of  the  Meuse  were  not  recognizable  as 
mountains.  One  could  not  even  trace  them 
by  their  shadows,  for  the  sun  was  right 

187 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

above  us.  We  only  knew  that  they  were 
there  and  with  a  little  imagination  we  could 
hide  ourselves  in  the  cool  glades  of  that  de- 
lightful country. 

It  had  become  late.  Clouds  were  gather- 
ing below  and  hid  from  us  the  earth.  We 
flew  on,  taking  our  direction  by  means  of 
the  sun  and  the  compass.  The  vicinity  of 
Holland  was  disagreeable  to  us.  We  decided 
to  go  lower  in  order  to  find  out  where  we 
were.  We  went  beneath  the  cloud  and  dis- 
covered that  we  were  above  Namur. 

We  then  went  on  to  Aix  la  Chapelle.  We 
left  that  town  to  our  left  and  about  mid-day 
we  reached  Cologne.  We  both  were  in  high 
spirits.  We  had  before  us  a  long  leave  of 
absence.  The  weather  was  beautiful.  We 
had  succeeded  in  all  our  undertakings.  We 
had  reached  Cologne.  We  could  be  certain 
to  get  to  Headquarters  in  time,  whatever 
might  happen. 

Our  coming  had  been  announced  in  Col- 
ogne by  telegram.  People  were  looking  out 
for  us.  On  the  previous  day  the  newspapers 
had  reported  my  fifty-second  aerial  victory. 

188 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

One  can  imagine  what  kind  of  a  reception 
they  had  prepared  for  us. 

Having  been  flying  for  three  hours  I  had 
a  slight  headache.  Therefore,  I  thought  I 
would  take  forty  winks,  before  going  to 
Headquarters.  From  Cologne  we  flew  along 
the  Rhine  for  some  distance.  I  knew  the 
country  well.  I  had  often  journeyed  that 
way  by  steamer,  by  motor  car,  and  by  rail- 
way, and  now  I  was  traveling  by  aeroplane. 
It  is  difficult  to  say  which  of  these  is  the 
most  pleasant  form  of  locomotion.  Of 
course,  one  can  see  the  details  of  the  land- 
scape better  from  the  steamer.  However, 
the  commanding  view  one  gets  from  an  aero- 
plane has  also  its  attractions.  The  Rhine  is 
a  very  beautiful  river,  from  above  as  well 
as  from  any  other  viewpoint. 

We  flew  rather  low  in  order  not  to  lose 
the  sensation  that  we  were  traveling  among 
mountains,  for  after  all  the  most  beautiful 
part  of  the  Rhine  are  the  tree  clad  hills  and 
castles.  Of  course  we  could  not  make  out 
individual  houses.  It  is  a  pity  that  one  can- 
not fly  slowly  and  quickly.  If  it  had  been 

189 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

possible  I  would  have  flown  quite  slowly. 

The  beautiful  views  which  we  saw  van- 
ished only  too  quickly.  Nevertheless,  when 
one  flies  high  in  the  air  one  never  has  the 
sensation  that  one  is  proceeding  at  a  fast 
pace.  If  you  are  sitting  in  a  motor  car  or 
in  a  fast  train  you  have  the  impression  of 
tremendous  speed.  On  the  other  hand,  you 
seem  to  be  advancing  slowly  when  you  fly 
in  an  aeroplane  at  a  considerable  speed.  You 
notice  the  celerity  of  your  progress  only 
when  you  have  not  looked  out  of  your  ma- 
chine for  four  or  five  minutes  and  then  try 
to  find  out  where  you  are.  Then  the  aspect 
of  the  country  appears  suddenly  completely 
changed.  The  terrain  which  you  passed  over 
a  little  while  ago  looks  quite  different  under 
a  different  angle,  and  you  do  not  recognize 
the  scenery  you  have  passed.  Herein  lies 
the  reason  that  an  airman  can  easily  lose  his 
way  if  he  forgets  for  a  moment  to  examine 
the  territory. 

In  the  afternoon  we  arrived  at  Head- 
quarters and  were  cordially  received  by  some 
comrades  with  whom  I  was  acquainted  and 

190 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

who  worked  at  the  holiest  of  holies.  I  abso- 
lutely pitied  those  poor  ink-spillers.  They 
get  only  half  the  fun  in  war. 

First  of  all  I  went  to  the  General  com- 
manding the  Air  Forces. 

On  the  next  morning  came  the  great  mo- 
ment when  I  was  to  meet  Hindenburg  and 
Ludendorf.  I  had  to  wait  for  quite  a  while. 

I  should  find  it  difficult  to  describe  my 
encounter  with  these  Generals.  I  saw  Hin- 
denburg first  and  then  Ludendorf. 

It  is  a  weird  feeling  to  be  in  the  room 
where  the  fate  of  the  world  is  decided.  I 
was  quite  glad  when  I  was  again  outside 
the  holiest  of  holies  and  when  I  had  been 
commanded  to  lunch  with  His  Majesty.  The 
day  was  the  day  of  my  birth  and  somebody 
had  apparently  told  His  Majesty.  He  con- 
gratulated me  in  the  first  place  on  my  suc- 
cess, and  in  the  second,  on  my  twenty-fifth 
birthday.  At  the  same  time  he  handed  me 
a  small  birthday  present. 

Formerly  I  would  never  have  believed  it 
possible  that  on  my  twenty-fifth  birthday 
I  would  be  sitting  at  the  right  of  General 

191 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Field  Marshal  von  Hindenburg  and  that  I 
would  be  mentioned  by  him  in  a  speech. 

On  the  day  following  I  was  to  take  mid- 
day dinner  with  Her  Majesty.  And  so  I 
went  to  Homburg.  Her  Majesty  also  gave 
me  a  birthday  present  and  I  had  the  great 
pleasure  to  show  her  how  to  start  an  aero- 
plane. In  the  evening  I  was  again  invited 
by  General  Field  Marshal  von  Hindenburg. 
The  day  following  I  flew  to  Freiburg  to  do 
some  shooting.  At  Freiburg  I  made  use  of 
the  flying  machine  which  was  going  to  Ber- 
lin by  air.  In  Nuremberg  I  replenished  my 
tanks  with  benzine.  A  thunderstorm  was 
coming  on.  I  was  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  to 
Berlin.  Various  more  or  less  interesting 
things  awaited  me  there.  So  I  flew  on,  the 
thunderstorm  notwithstanding.  I  enjoyed 
the  clouds  and  the  beastly  weather.  The 
rain  fell  in  streams.  Sometimes  it  hailed. 
Afterwards  the  propeller  had  the  most  ex- 
traordinary aspect.  The  hail  stones  had 
damaged  it  considerably.  The  blades  looked 
like  saws. 

Unfortunately  I  enjoyed  the  bad  weather 

192 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

so  much  that  I  quite  forgot  to  look  about 
me.  When  I  remembered  that  one  has  to 
look  out  it  was  too  late.  I  had  no  longer  any 
idea  where  I  was.  That  was  a  nice  position 
to  be  in!  I  had  lost  my  way  in  my  own 
country!  My  people  at  home  would  laugh 
when  they  knew  it !  However,  there  it  was 
and  couldn't  be  helped.  I  had  no  idea  where 
I  was.  Owing  to  a  powerful  wind  I  had 
been  driven  out  of  my  course  and  off  my 
map.  Guided  by  sun  and  compass  I  tried  to 
get  the  direction  of  Berlin. 

Towns,  villages,  hills  and  forests  were 
slipping  away  below  me.  I  did  not  recog- 
nize a  thing.  I  tried  in  vain  to  compare  the 
picture  beneath  with  my  map.  Everything 
was  different.  I  found  it  impossible  to  recog- 
nize the  country.  Later  on  I  discovered  the 
impossibility  of  finding  my  way  for  I  was  fly- 
ing about  sixty  miles  outside  my  map. 

After  having  flown  for  a  couple  of  hours 
my  guide  and  I  resolved  to  land  somewhere 
in  the  open.  That  is  always  unpleasant. 
One  cannot  tell  how  the  surface  of  the 
ground  is  in  reality.  If  one  of  the  wheels 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

gets  into  a  hole  one's  box  is  converted  into 
matchwood. 

We  tried  to  read  the  name  written  upon 
a  station,  but  of  course  that  was  impossible, 
it  was  too  small.  So  we  had  to  land.  We 
did  it  with  a  heavy  heart  for  nothing  else 
could  be  done.  We  looked  for  a  meadow 
which  appeared  suitable  from  above  and 
tried  our  luck.  Close  inspection  unfortun- 
ately showed  that  the  meadow  was  not  as 
pleasant  as  it  seemed.  The  fact  was  obvi- 
ously proved  by  the  slightly  bent  frame  of 
our  machine.  We  had  made  ourselves 
gloriously  ridiculous.  We  had  first  lost  our 
way  and  then  smashed  the  machine.  So  we 
had  to  continue  our  journey  with  the  com- 
monplace conveyance,  by  railway  train. 
Slowly  but  surely,  we  reached  Berlin.  We 
had  landed  in  the  neighborhood  of  Leipzig. 
If  we  had  not  landed  so  stupidly,  we  would 
certainly  have  reached  Berlin.  But  some- 
times you  make  a  mistake  whatever  you  do. 

Some  days  later  I  arrived  in  Schweidnitz, 
my  own  town.  Although  I  got  there  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  there  was  a  large 

194 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

crowd  at  the  station.  I  was  very  cordially 
received.  In  the  afternoon  various  demon- 
strations took  place  to  honor  me,  among 
others,  one  of  the  local  Boy  Scouts. 

It  became  clear  to  me  that  the  people  at 
home  took  a  vivid  interest  in  their  fighting 
soldiers  after  all. 


195 


XIII 
My  Brother 

\  HAD  not  yet  passed  eight  days  of  my 
leave  when  I  received  the  telegram: 
"Lothar  is  wounded  but  not  mortally."  That 
was  all.  Inquiries  showed  that  he  had  been 
very  rash.  He  flew  against  the  enemy, 
together  with  Allmenroder.  Beneath  him 
and  a  good  distance  on  the  other  side  of  the 
front,  he  saw  in  the  air  a  lonely  Englishman 
crawling  about.  He  was  one  of  those  hostile 
infantry  fliers  who  make  themselves  par- 
ticularly disagreeable  to  our  troops.  We 
molest  them  a  great  deal.  Whether  they 
really  achieve  anything  in  crawling  along 
the  ground  is  very  problematical.* 

My  brother  was  at  an  altitude  of  about 
six  thousand  feet,  while  the  Englishman 

•Probably  the  fighting  to  the  east  of  Amiens  in  March  and 
April,  1918,  has  demonstrated  to  the  German  Army  at  large  that 
quite  a  great  deal  is  achieved  by  this  "crawling  along  the  ground." 
The  use  of  aeroplanes  againat  infantry  and  cavalry  has  been 
developed  very  greatly  since  von  Richthofen  wrote  his  notes 
in  1917. 

IC?6 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

was  at  about  three  thousand  feet.  He 
quietly  approached  the  Englishman,  pre- 
pared to  plunge  and  in  a  few  seconds  was 
upon  him.  The  Englishman  thought  he 
would  avoid  a  duel  and  he  disappeared  like- 
wise by  a  plunge.  My  brother,  without  hesi- 
tation, plunged  after.  He  didn't  care  at  all 
whether  he  was  on  one  side  of  the  front  or 
the  other.  He  was  animated  by  a  single 
thought :  I  must  down  that  fellow.  That  is, 
of  course,  the  correct  way  of  managing 
things.  Now  and  then  I  myself  have  acted 
that  way.  However,  if  my  brother  does  not 
have  at  least  one  success  on  every  flight  he 
gets  tired  of  the  whole  thing. 

Only  a  little  above  the  ground  my  brother 
obtained  a  favorable  position  towards  the 
English  flier  and  could  shoot  into  his  shop 
windows.  The  Englishman  fell.  There  was 
nothing  more  to  be  done. 

After  such  a  struggle,  especially  at  a  low 
altitude,  in  the  course  of  which  one  has  so 
often  been  twisting  and  turning,  and  circling 
to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  the  average  mor- 
tal has  no  longer  the  slightest  notion  of  his 

197 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

position.  On  that  day  it  happened  that  the 
air  was  somewhat  misty.  The  weather  was 
particularly  unfavorable.  My  brother  quick- 
ly took  his  bearings  and  discovered  only  then 
that  he  was  a  long  distance  behind  the  front. 
He  was  behind  the  ridge  of  Vimy.  The 
top  of  that  hill  is  about  three  hundred  feet 
higher  than  the  country  around.  My 
brother,  so  the  observers  on  the  ground  re- 
ported, had  disappeared  behind  the  Vimy 
height. 

It  is  not  a  particularly  pleasant  feeling 
to  fly  home  over  enemy  country.  One  is 
shot  at  and  cannot  shoot  back.  It  is  true, 
however,  that  a  hit  is  rare.  My  brother  ap- 
proached the  line.  At  a  low  altitude  one 
can  hear  every  shot  that  is  fired,  and  firing 
sounds  then  very  much  like  the  noise  made 
by  chestnuts  which  are  being  roasted.  Sud- 
denly, he  felt  that  he  had  been  hit.  That 
was  queer  to  him. 

My  brother  is  one  of  those  men  who  can- 
not see  their  own  blood.  If  somebody  else 
was  bleeding  it  would  not  impress  him  very 
greatly,  but  the  sight  of  his  own  blood  up- 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

sets  him.  He  felt  his  blood  running  down 
his  right  leg  in  a  warm  stream.  At  the  same 
time,  he  noticed  a  pain  in  his  hip.  Below 
the  shooting  continued.  It  followed  that  he 
was  still  over  hostile  ground. 

At  last  the  firing  gradually  ceased.  He 
had  crossed  the  front.  Now  he  must  be 
nimble  for  his  strength  was  rapidly  ebbing 
away.  He  saw  a  wood  and  next  to  the  wood 
a  meadow.  Straight  for  the  meadow  he  flew 
and  mechanically,  almost  unconsciously,  he 
switched  off  the  engine.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment he  lost  consciousness. 

My  brother  was  in  a  single-seater.  No 
one  could  help  him.  It  is  a  miracle  that  he 
came  to  the  ground,  for  no  flying  machine 
lands  or  starts  automatically.  There  is  a 
rumor  that  they  have  at  Cologne  an  old 
Taube  which  will  start  by  itself  as  soon  as 
the  pilot  takes  his  seat,  which  makes  the 
regulation  curve  and  which  lands  again  after 
exactly  five  minutes.*  Many  men  pretend  to 
have  seen  that  miraculous  machine.  I  have 
not  seen  it.  But  still  I  am  convinced  that  the 

"Curiously  enough  there  i»  a  very  similar  legend  concerning 
an  aged  school  machine  *t  one  of  the  British  flying  school*. 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

tale  is  true.  Now,  my  brother  was  not  in 
such  a  miraculous  automatic  machine. 
Nevertheless  he  had  not  hurt  himself  in 
landing.  He  recovered  consciousness  only 
in  hospital,  and  was  sent  to  Douai. 

It  is  a  curious  feeling  to  see  one's  brother 
fighting  with  an  Englishman.  Once  I  saw 
that  Lothar,  who  was  lagging  behind  the 
squadron,  was  being  attacked  by  an  English 
aviator.  It  would  have  been  easy  for  him 
to  avoid  battle.  He  need  only  plunge.  But 
he  would  not  do  that.  That  would  not  even 
occur  to  him.  He  does  not  know  how  to 
run  away.  Happily  I  had  observed  what 
was  going  on  and  was  looking  for  my  chance. 

I  noticed  that  the  Englishman  went  for 
my  brother  and  shot  at  him.  My  brother 
tried  to  reach  the  Englishman's  altitude  dis- 
regarding the  shots.  Suddenly  his  machine 
turned  a  somersault  and  plunged  perpen- 
dicularly, turning  round  and  round.  It  was 
not  an  intended  plunge,  but  a  regular  fall. 
That  is  not  a  nice  thing  to  look  at,  especially 
if  the  falling  airman  is  one's  own  brother. 
Gradually  I  had  to  accustom  myself  to  that 

200 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

sight  for  it  was  one  of  my  brother's  tricks. 
As  soon  as  he  felt  sure  that  the  Englishman 
was  his  superior  he  acted  as  if  he  had  been 
shot. 

The  Englishman  rushed  after  him.  My 
brother  recovered  his  balance  and  in  a  mo- 
ment had  got  above  his  enemy.  The  hostile 
aeroplane  could  not  equally  quickly  get 
ready  for  what  was  to  come.  My  brother 
caught  it  at  a  favorable  angle  and  a  few 
seconds  after  it  went  down  in  flames.  When 
a  machine  is  burning  all  is  lost  for  it  falls  to 
the  ground  burning. 

Once  I  was  on  the  ground  next  to  a  ben- 
zine tank.  It  contained  one  hundred  litres 
of  benzine  which  exploded  and  burnt.  The 
heat  was  so  great  that  I  could  not  bear  to 
be  within  ten  yards  of  it.  One  can  therefore 
imagine  what  it  means  if  a  tank  containing 
a  large  quantity  of  this  devilish  liquid  ex- 
plodes a  few  inches  in  front  of  one  while 
the  blast  from  the  propeller  blows  the  flame 
into  one's  face.  I  believe  a  man  must  lose 
consciousness  at  the  very  first  moment. 

Sometimes  miracles  do  happen.     For  in- 

2OI 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

stance,  I  once  saw  an  English  aeroplane  fall- 
ing down  in  flames.  The  flames  burst  out 
only  at  an  altitude  of  fifteen  hundred  feet. 
The  whole  machine  was  burning.  When  we 
had  flown  home  we  were  told  that  one  of 
the  occupants  of  the  machine  had  jumped 
from  an  altitude  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet.  It  was  the  observer.  One  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  is  the  height  of  a  good  sized  steeple. 
Supposing  somebody  should  jump  from  its 
top  to  the  ground,  what  would  be  his  con- 
dition? Most  men  would  break  their  bones 
in  jumping  from  a  first  floor  window.  At 
any  rate,  this  good  fellow  jumped  from  a 
burning  machine  at  an  altitude  of  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet,  from  a  machine  which 
had  been  burning  for  over  a  minute,  and 
nothing  happened  to  him  except  a  simple 
fracture  of  the  leg.  Soon  after  his  adven- 
ture he  made  a  statement  from  which  it  ap- 
pears that  his  nerve  had  not  suffered.* 
Another  time,  I  shot  down  an  Englishman. 

*On  two  or  three  occasions  pilots  have  gallantly  stuck  to  their 
controls  and  have  managed  to  land  safely  in  blazing  machines  from 
fully  1,000  feet.  There  is  a  general  opinion  that  it  is  possible  to  fit  a 
parachute  so  that  in  the  event  of  an  aeroplane  catching  fire  the 
pilot  and  passenger  can,  quit  it  at  once  and  descend  safely. 

2O2 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

The  pilot  had  been  fatally  wounded  in  the 
head.  The  machine  fell  perpendicularly  to 
earth  from  an  altitude  of  nine  thousand  feet. 
Some  time  later  I  came  gliding  down  and 
saw  on  the  ground  nothing  but  a  heap  of 
twisted  debris.  To  my  surprise  I  was  told 
that  the  observer  had  only  damaged  his  skull 
and  that  his  condition  was  not  dangerous. 
Some  people  have  luck  indeed. 

Once  upon  a  time,  Boelcke  shot  down  a 
Nieuport  machine.  I  was  present.  The 
aeroplane  fell  like  a  stone.  When  we  in- 
spected it  we  found  that  it  had  been  driven 
up  to  the  middle  into  the  loamy  soil.  The 
occupant  had  been  shot  in  the  abdomen  and 
had  lost  consciousness  and  had  wrenched  his 
arm  out  of  its  socket  on  striking  the  ground. 
He  did  not  die  of  his  fall. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  has  happened  that 
a  good  friend  of  mine  in  landing  had  a  slight 
accident.  One  of  the  wheels  of  his  machine 
got  into  a  rabbit  hole.  The  aeroplane  was 
traveling  at  no  speed  and  quite  slowly  went 
on  its  head.  It  seemed  to  reflect  whether  it 
should  fall  to  the  one  side  or  to  the  other, 

203 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

turned  over  and  the  poor  fellow's  back  was 
broken. 

My  brother  Lothar  is  Lieutenant  in  the 
4th  Dragoons.  Before  the  war  he  was  at 
the  War  Academy.  He  was  made  an  officer 
at  the  outbreak  and  began  the  war  as  a 
cavalry  man  exactly  as  I  did.  I  know  noth- 
ing about  his  actions  for  he  never  speaks  of 
himself.  However,  I  have  been  told  the  fol- 
lowing story : 

In  the  winter  of  1914  Lothar's  regiment 
was  on  the  Warthe.  The  Russians  were 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  Nobody 
knew  whether  they  intended  to  stay 
there  or  to  go  back.  The  water  was 
frozen  partly  along  the  shore.  So  it 
was  difficult  to  ride  through  the  river. 
There  were,  of  course,  no  bridges,  for  the 
Russians  had  destroyed  them.  So  my 
brother  swam  across,  ascertained  the  posi- 
tion of  the  Russians  and  swam  back  again. 
He  did  that  during  a  severe  Russian  winter 
when  the  thermometer  was  very  low.  After 
a  few  minutes  his  clothes  were  frozen  solid, 
yet  he  asserted  that  he  had  felt  quite  warm 


THE    RED    BATTLE-FLYER 

notwithstanding.  He  kept  on  his  horse  all 
day  long  until  he  got  to  his  quarters  in  the 
evening,  yet  he  did  not  catch  a  chill. 

In  winter,  1915,  he  followed  my  urgent 
advice  and  went  into  the  flying  service.  He 
also  became  an  observer  and  became  a  pilot 
only  a  year  later.  Acting  as  an  observer  is 
certainly  not  a  bad  training,  particularly  for 
a  chasing  airman.  In  March,  1917,  he  passed 
his  third  examination  and  came  at  once  to 
my  squadron. 

When  he  arrived  he  was  a  very  young  and 
innocent  pilot  who  never  thought  of  looping 
and  such  like  tricks.  He  was  quite  satisfied 
if  he  succeeded  in  starting  his  machine  and 
in  landing  successfully.  A  fortnight  later  I 
took  him  with  me  against  the  enemy  for  the 
first  time.  I  asked  him  to  fly  close  behind 
me  in  order  that  he  might  see  exactly  how 
the  fighting  was  done. 

After  the  third  flight  with  him  I  suddenly 
noticed  he  parted  company  with  me.  He 
rushed  at  an  Englishman  and  killed  him. 
My  heart  leapt  with  joy  when  I  saw  it.  The 
event  proved  once  more  that  there  is  no  art 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

in  shooting  down  an  aeroplane.  The  thing 
is  done  by  the  personality  or  by  the  fighting 
determination  of  the  airman.*  I  am  not  a 
Pegoud  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be  a  Pegoud. 
I  am  only  a  soldier  who  does  his  duty. 

Four  weeks  later  my  brother  had  shot 
down  a  total  of  twenty  Englishmen.  His 
record  as  a  flier  is  probably  unique.  It  has 
probably  not  happened  in  any  other  case 
that  a  pilot,  a  fortnight  after  his  third  ex- 
amination, has  shot  down  his  first  enemy  and 
that  he  has  shot  down  twenty  during  the 
first  four  weeks  of  his  fighting  life. 

My  brother's  twenty-second  opponent  was 
the  celebrated  Captain  Ball.  He  was  by  far 
the  best  English  flier.  Major  Hawker,  who 
in  his  time  was  as  renowned  as  Captain  Ball, 
I  had  pressed  to  my  bosom  some  months  pre- 
viously. It  was  a  particular  pleasure  to  me 
that  it  fell  to  my  brother  to  settle  England's 
second  flying  champion. 

Captain  Ball  flew  a  triplane  and  encoun- 

This  may  be  the  propagandist  editor  at  work,  or  it  may  be  a 
deliberate  attempt  to  mislead,  because,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  a  man 
cannot  survive  long  as  a  fighting  pilot  unless  he  Is  a  perfect 
master  of  his  machine. 

206 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

tered  my  brother  flying  by  himself  at  the 
Front.  Each  tried  to  catch  the  other. 
Neither  gave  his  opponent  a  chance.  Every 
encounter  was  a  short  one.  They  were  con- 
stantly dashing  at  one  another.  Neither 
succeeded  in  getting  behind  the  other.  Sud- 
denly both  resolved  to  fire  a  few  well  aimed 
shots  during  the  few  moments  of  the  en- 
counter. Both  rushed  at  one  another,  and 
fired.  Both  had  before  them  their  engine. 
The  probability  of  a  hit  was  very  small  for 
their  speed  was  twice  as  great  as  normally. 
It  was  improbable  that  either  should  suc- 
ceed. My  brother,  who  was  a  little  lower, 
had  pulled  his  machine  around  too  hard  and 
the  result  was  that  it  overturned.  For  a  mo- 
ment his  aeroplane  became  unsteerable.  But 
presently  he  recovered  control  and  found  out 
that  his  opponent  had  smashed  both  his  ben- 
zine tanks.  Therefore,  he  had  to  stop  the 
engine  and  land  quickly.  Otherwise,  his 
machine  might  burst  into  flames. 

His  next  idea  was :  What  has  become  of 
my  opponent  ?  At  the  moment  when  his  ma- 
chine turned  its  somersault  he  had  seen  that 

207 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

the  enemy's  machine  was  rearing  up  in  the 
air  and  had  also  turned  a  somersault.  He 
therefore  could  not  be  very  far.  His  whole 
thought  was :  Is  he  above  me  or  beneath  me? 
He  was  not  above  but  he  saw  the  triplane 
falling  down  in  a  series  of  somersaults.  It 
fell,  fell,  fell  until  it  came  to  the  ground 
where  it  was  smashed  to  pieces.  This  hap- 
pened on  German  territory.  Both  opponents 
had  hit  one  another  with  their  machine  guns. 
My  brother's  machine  had  had  both  benzine 
tanks  smashed  and  at  the  same  moment 
Captain  Ball  had  been  shot  through  the  head. 
He  carried  with  him  some  photographs  and 
cuttings  from  the  newspapers  of  his  town 
where  he  had  been  greatly  feted. 
In  Boelcke's  time  Captain  Ball  destroyed 
thirty-six  German  machines.  He,  too,  had 
found  his  master.  Was  it  by  chance  that  a 
prominent  man  such  as  he  also  should  die 
an  ordinary  soldier's  death?* 

•There  is  some  curious  error  here,  for  Captain  Ball  was  not 
flying  a  triplane  at  the  time  of  his  death.  It  seems  probable  that 
someone  else  shot  Captain  Ball  on  the  same  day,  and  that,  as  the 
younger  von  Richthofen  was  disabled,  and  so  could  not  go  and 
identify  the  wreckage  of  Captain  Ball's  machine,  the  credit  was 
given  to  von  Richthofen  in  default  of  anyone  else  makir.f  a  claim. 

208 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Captain  Ball  was  certainly  the  commander 
of  the  Anti-Richthofen  Squadron.  I  believe 
that  the  Englishmen  will  now  give  up  their 
attempt  to  catch  me.  I  should  regret  it,  for 
in  that  case,  I  should  miss  many  opportun- 
ities to  make  myself  beloved  by  them. 

Had  my  brother  not  been  wounded  on  the 
fifth  of  May  he  would  probably  on  my  re- 
turn from  furlough,  also  have  been  given  a 
leave  of  absence  with  fifty-two  hostile  ma- 
chines to  his  credit. 

My  father  discriminates  between  a  sports- 
man and  a  butcher.  The  latter  shoots  for 
fun.  When  I  have  shot  down  an  English- 
man my  hunting  passion  is  satisfied  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  Therefore  I  do  not 
succeed  in  shooting  two  Englishmen  in  suc- 
cession. If  one  of  them  comes  down  I  have 
the  feeling  of  complete  satisfaction.  Only 
much,  much  later  I  have  overcome  my  in- 
stinct and  have  become  a  butcher. 

My  brother  is  differently  constituted.  I 
had  an  opportunity  of  observing  him  when 
he  was  shooting  down  his  fourth  and  fifth 
opponents.  We  were  attacking  in  a  squad- 

209 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

ron.  I  started  the  dance.  I  had  settled  my 
opponent  very  quickly.  When  I  looked 
around  I  noticed  my  brother  rushing  after 
an  English  machine  which  was  bursting  into 
flames,  and  exploded.  Next  to  it  was  an- 
other Englishman.  My  brother,  though  fol- 
lowing number  one,  immediately  directed 
his  machine  gun  against  number  two,  al- 
though his  first  opponent  was  still  in  the 
air  and  had  not  yet  fallen.  His  second  vic- 
tim also  fell  after  a  short  struggle. 

When  we  met  at  home  he  asked  me 
proudly,  "How  many  have  you  shot  down?" 
I  said  quite  modestly,  "One."  He  turned  his 
back  upon  me  and  said,  "I  did  two."  There- 
upon I  sent  him  forward  to  make  inquiries. 
He  was  to  find  out  the  names  of  his  victims, 
etc.  He  returned  late  in  the  afternoon 
having  been  able  to  find  only  a  single  Eng- 
lishman. 

He  had  looked  carelessly,  as  is  usual 
amongst  such  butchers.  Only  on  the  follow- 
ing day  I  received  a  report  as  to  the  place 
where  the  second  had  come  down. 

[We  all  had  seen  his  fall. 

210 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 


I  Shoot  a  Bison 

117  HEN  visiting  Headquarters  I  met  the 
**  Prince  von  Pless.  He  permitted  me  to 
shoot  a  bison  on  his  estate.  The  bison  has 
died  out.  On  the  whole  earth  there  are  only 
two  spots  where  bisons  may  be  found.  These 
are  the  Pless  Estate  and  in  the  Bialowicz 
estate  of  the  ex-Czar.  The  Bialowicz  forest 
has,  of  course,  suffered  terribly  through  the 
war.  Many  a  magnificent  bison  which  ought 
to  have  been  shot  either  by  the  Czar  or  by 
some  other  monarch  has  been  eaten  by  Ger- 
man musketeers. 

Through  the  kindness  of  the  Prince  I  was 
permitted  to  shoot  so  rare  an  animal.  In  a 
few  decades  none  will  be  left. 

I  arrived  at  Pless  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
twenty-sixth  of  May  and  had  to  start  imme- 
diately from  the  station  if  I  wished  to  kill 
a  bull  the  same  evening.  We  drove  along 
the  celebrated  road,  through  the  giant  pre- 
serve of  the  Prince,  which  has  been  fre- 
quented by  many  crowned  heads.  After 
about  an  hour,  we  got  out  and  had  to  walk 

211 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

half  an  hour  to  come  to  the  shooting  place. 
The  drivers  had  already  been  placed  in  posi- 
tion. The  signal  was  given  to  them  and  they 
began  the  drive. 

I  stood  at  an  elevated  spot  which  had  been 
occupied,  according  to  the  head  forester,  by 
His  Majesty,  who  from  thence  had  shot 
many  a  bison.  We  waited  some  considerable 
time.  Suddenly  I  saw  among  the  timber  a 
gigantic  black  monster,  rolling  along.  It 
came  straight  in  my  direction.  I  noticed  it 
before  the  head  forester  had.  I  got  ready 
for  firing  and  must  say  that  I  felt  somewhat 
feverish. 

It  was  a  mighty  bull.  When  he  was  at  a 
distance  of  two  hundred  yards  there  was 
still  some  hope  for  him.  I  thought  it  was 
too  far  for  a  shot.  Of  course  I  could  have 
hit  the  monster  because  it  was  impossible 
to  miss  such  a  huge  beast.  However,  it 
would  have  been  unpleasant  to  search  for 
him.  Besides  it  would  have  been  ridiculous 
had  I  missed  him,  so  I  thought  I  would  wait 
until  he  came  nearer. 

Probably  he  noticed  the  drivers  for  he 

212 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

suddenly  turned  and  came  rushing  towards 
me  at  a  sharp  angle  and  at  a  speed  which 
seemed  to  me  incredible.  It  was  a  bad  po- 
sition for  a  shot,  and  in  a  moment  he  disap- 
peared behind  a  group  of  stout  trees. 

I  heard  him  snorting  and  stamping.  I  lost 
sight  of  him.  I  have  no  idea  whether  he 
smelt  me  or  not.  At  any  rate,  he  had  disap- 
peared. I  caught  another  glimpse  of  him 
at  a  long  distance  and  he  was  gone. 

I  do  not  know  whether  it  was  the  unac- 
customed aspect  of  the  animal  or  whether 
something  else  affected  me.  At  any  rate,  at 
the  moment  when  the  bull  came  near  I  had 
the  same  feeling,  the  same  feverishness 
which  seizes  me  when  I  am  sitting  in  my 
aeroplane  and  notice  an  Englishman  at  so 
great  a  distance  that  I  have  to  fly  perhaps 
five  minutes  in  order  to  get  near  him.  The 
only  difference  is  that  the  Englishman  de- 
fends himself.  Possibly,  different  feelings 
would  have  moved  me  had  I  been  standing 
on  level  ground  and  not  on  an  elevated 
position. 

Before  long,  a  second  bison  came  near. 
213 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

He  was  also  a  huge  fellow.  He  made  it 
easier  for  me  to  fire  my  shot.  At  a  distance 
of  eighty  yards  I  fired  at  him  but  I  had 
missed  my  opportunity  to  shoot  him  in  the 
shoulder.  A  month  before,  Hindenburg  had 
told  me  when  talking  of  bison:  "You  must 
take  a  lot  of  cartridges  with  you.  I  have 
spent  on  such  a  fellow  half  a  dozen  for  he 
does  not  die  easily.  His  heart  lies  so  deep 
that  one  misses  it  as  a  rule."  That  was 
really  so.  Although  I  knew  exactly  where 
the  bison's  heart  was  I  had  missed  it.  I  fired 
a  second  shot  and  a  third.  Hit  for  the  third 
time  the  bull  stopped  perhaps  fifty  yards 
from  me. 

Five  minutes  later  the  beast  was  dead. 
The  shooting  was  finished.  All  three  bul- 
lets had  hit  him  close  above  the  heart. 

We  drove  now,  past  the  beautiful  hunting 
box  of  the  Prince  through  the  forest,  in 
which  the  guests  of  Prince  Pless  shoot 
every  year,  deer,  and  other  animals.  Then 
we  looked  at  the  interior  of  the  house  in 
Promnitz.  It  is  situated  on  a  peninsula.  It 
commands  beautiful  views  and  for  three 

214 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

miles  around  there  is  no  human  being.  One 
has  no  longer  the  feeling  that  one  is  in  a 
preserve  of  the  ordinary  kind  when  one  visits 
the  estate  of  Prince  Pless,  for  the  preserve 
extends  to  a  million  acres.  It  contains  glori- 
ous stags  which  have  never  been  seen  by 
man.  No  forester  knows  them.  Occasion- 
ally they  are  shot.  One  can  tramp  about  for 
weeks  without  seeing  a  bison.  During  cer- 
tain times  of  the  year  it  is  impossible  to  find 
one.  They  like  quietude  and  they  can  hide 
themselves  in  the  gigantic  forests  and 
tangled  woods.  We  saw  many  beautiful 
deer. 

After  about  two  hours  we  arrived  at  Pless, 
just  before  it  became  dark. 

Infantry  Fliers,  Artillery  Fliers 
and     Reconnoitring     Machines 

LJAD  I  not  become  a  professional  chaser 
*  *  I  should  have  turned  an  infantry  flier. 
After  all,  it  must  be  a  very  satisfactory  feel- 
ing to  be  able  to  aid  those  troops  whose 
work  is  hardest.  The  infantry  flier  can  do 
a  great  deal  to  assist  the  man  on  foot. 

215 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

For  that  reason  his  is  a  very  grateful  task.* 
In  the  course  of  the  Battle  of  Arras  I  ob- 
served many  of  these  splendid  fellows.  They 
flew  in  any  weather  and  at  any  time  at  a 
low  altitude  over  the  enemy  and  tried  to 
act  as  connecting  links  with  our  hard- 
pressed  troops.  I  can  understand  that  one 
can  fight  with  enthusiasm  when  one  is  given 
such  a  task.  I  dare  say  many  an  airman  has 
shouted  Hurrah!  when,  after  an  assault  he 
saw  the  hostile  masses  stream  back  or  when 
our  smart  infantry  leaped  from  the  trenches 
and  fought  the  aggressors  eye  to  eye.  Many 
a  time,  after  a  chasing  expedition,  I  have 
fired  my  remaining  cartridges  into  the 
enemy  trenches.  Although  I  may  have  done 
little  practical  good,  such  firing  affects  the 
enemy's  morale. 

I  have  also  been  an  artillery  flier.  In  my 
time  it  was  a  novelty  to  regulate  the  firing 
of  one's  own  artillery  by  wireless  telegraphy. 
To  do  this  well  an  airman  requires  special 
talent.  I  could  not  do  the  work  for  long. 


*Thi»    was    evidently    written    some    time    after    von    Richthofen's 
Infanti 

2l6 


previous   disparaging   note   on    Infantry    Contact    fliers. 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

I  prefer  fighting.  Very  likely,  artillery 
officers  make  the  best  artillery  fliers.  At 
least,  they  have  the  necessary  knowledge  of 
the  arm  which  they  serve. 

I  have  done  a  lot  of  reconnoitering  by 
aeroplane,  particularly  in  Russia  during  the 
war  of  movement.  Then  I  acted  once  more 
as  a  cavalryman.  The  only  difference  was 
that  I  rode  a  Pegasus  made  of  steel.  My 
days  spent  with  friend  Hoick  among  the 
Russians  were  among  the  finest  in  my  life. 

In  the  Western  theater  the  eye  of  the 
reconnaissance  flier  sees  things  which  are 
very  different  from  those  to  which  the  cav- 
alrymen get  accustomed.  Villages  and 
towns,  railways  and  roads  seem  lifeless  and 
dead.  Yet  there  is  a  colossal  traffic  going  on 
all  the  time,  but  it  is  hidden  from  the  flying 
men  with  great  skill.  Only  a  wonderfully 
trained  practised  and  observant  eye  can 
see  anything  definite  when  one  is  traveling 
at  a  great  height  and  at  a  terrific  speed.  I 
have  excellent  eyes  but  it  seems  doubtful  to 
me  whether  there  is  anyone  who  can  see 
anything  definite  when  he  looks  down  upon  a 

217 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

road  from  an  altitude  of  fifteen  thousand 
feet.  As  the  eye  is  an  imperfect  object  for 
observation  one  replaces  it  by  the  photo- 
graphic apparatus.  Everything  that  seems 
important  to  one  must  be  photographed. 
Besides,  one  must  photograph  those  things 
which  one  is  told  to  photograph.  If  one 
comes  home  and  if  the  plates  have  gone 
wrong,  the  whole  flight  has  been  for  nothing. 

It  often  happens  to  flying  men  who  do 
reconnoitering  that  they  get  involved  in  a 
fight.  However,  their  task  is  more  impor- 
tant than  fighting.  Frequently  a  photo- 
graphic plate  is  more  valuable  than  the 
shooting  down  of  a  squadron.  Hence  the 
flying  photographer  should,  as  a  rule,  not 
take  a  hand  in  fighting. 

Nowadays  it  is  a  difficult  task  to  recon- 
noiter  efficiently  in  the  West.* 

The  German  Flying  Machines 

T  N  the  course  of  the  War  the  German  fly- 
••'  ing  machines  have  experienced  great 
changes.  That  is  probably  generally  known. 

•This  is  really  a  high  testimony  to  the  effectiye  work  of  the 
R.  F.  C. 

218 


THE     RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

There  is  a  colossal  difference  between  a 
giant  plane  and  a  chaser  plane. 

The  chaser  plane  is  small,  fast,  quick  at 
turning.  It  carries  nothing  apart  from  the 
pilot  except  machine  guns  and  cartridges. 

The  giant  plane  is  a  colossus.  Its  only 
duty  is  to  carry  as  much  weight  as  possible 
and  it  is  able  to  do  this  owing  to  the  huge 
surface  of  its  planes.  It  is  worth  while  to 
look  at  the  gigantic  English  plane  which 
landed  smoothly  on  the  German  side  of  the 
front.**  The  giant  plane  can  carry  an  un- 
believable weight.  It  will  easily  fly  away 
dragging  from  three  to  five  tons.  Its  ben- 
zine tanks  look  as  large  as  railroad  cars.  In 
going  about  in  such  a  colossus  one  has  no 
longer  the  sensation  that  one  is  flying.  One 
is  driving.  In  going  about  in  a  giant  plane 
the  direction  depends  no  longer  on  one's  in- 
stinct but  on  the  technical  instruments  which 
one  carries. 

A  giant  plane  has  a  huge  number  of  horse 
powers.  I  do  not  know  exactly  how  many, 
but  they  are  many  thousand.  The  greater 

••A  Handley  Page  which  landed  near  Laon  early  in  1917. 
219 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

the  horse  power  is,  the  better.  It  seems  not 
impossible  that  the  day  may  come  when  a 
whole  division  will  be  transported  in  such 
a  thing.  In  its  body  one  can  go  for  a  walk. 
In  one  of  its  corners  there  is  an  indescribable 
something.  It  contains  an  apparatus  for 
wireless  telephony  by  means  of  which  one 
can  converse  with  the  people  down  below. 
In  another  corner  are  hanging  the  most 
attractive  liver  sausages  which  one  can  im- 
agine. They  are  the  famous  bombs  which 
cause  such  a  fright  to  the  good  people  down 
below.  At  every  corner  is  a  gun.  The  whole 
thing  is  a  flying  fortress,  and  the  planes 
with  their  stays  and  supports  look  like 
arcades.  I  have  never  been  able  to  feel  en- 
thusiasm for  these  giant  barges.  I  find  them 
horrible,  unsportsmanlike,  boring  and  clum- 
sy. I  rather  like  a  machine  of  the  type  of 
"le  petit  rouge." 

If  one  is  in  a  small  chaser-plane  it  is  quite 
immaterial  whether  one  flies  on  one's  back, 
whether  one  flies  up  or  down,  stands  on 
one's  head,  etc.  One  can  play  any  tricks  one 
likes,  for  in  such  a  machine  one  can  fly  like 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

a  bird.  The  only  difference  is  that  one  does 
not  fly  with  wings,  as  does  the  bird  alba- 
tross. The  thing  is,  after  all,  merely  a  flying 
engine.  I  think  things  will  come  to  this, 
that  we  shall  be  able  to  buy  a  flying  suit  for 
half-a-crown.  One  gets  into  it.  On  the  one 
end  there  is  a  little  engine,  and  a  little  pro- 
peller. You  stick  your  arms  into  planes  and 
your  legs  into  the  tail.  Then  you  will  do 
a  few  leaps  in  order  to  start  and  away  you 
will  go  up  into  the  air  like  a  bird. 

My  dear  reader,  I  hear  you  laughing  at 
my  story.  But  we  do  not  know  yet  whether 
our  children  will  laugh  at  it.  Everyone 
would  have  laughed  fifty  years  ago  if  some- 
body had  spoken  about  flying  above  Berlin. 
I  remember  the  sensation  which  was  caused, 
when,  in  1910,  Zeppelin  came  for  the  first 
time  to  Berlin.  Now  no  Berlin  street  man 
looks  up  into  the  air  when  an  airship  is 
coming  along. 

Besides  giant  planes  and  little  chaser- 
planes,  there  are  innumerable  other  types  of 
flying  machines  and  they  are  of  all  sizes. 
Inventiveness  has  not  yet  come  to  an  end. 

221 


THE    RED     BATTLE-FLYER 

Who  can  tell  what  machine  we  shall  employ 
a  year  hence  in  order  to  perforate  the  atmos- 
phere? 


THE  END 


222 


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